The Journal
by mezy
Summary: When a journal that Hermione created for Ron falls into the hands of a former enemy that is seeking redemption, he will make her question everything and turn her life upside down.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hi all! So I've sworn I would never again post another WIP story, but here I am breaking that rule. I have the first five chapters written, but I need to know there is interest before I continue. So I'm posting the first chapter today and I will plan on posting one chapter a week if enough people are reading. You can let me know by leaving a review or following the story. **

**This story will have a little bit of mystery, some drama, some romance, and a whole lot of taking a chance and finding out who you really are. **

**Disclaimer – I do not own HP or the characters. Those are JKR's. The storyline, however, is mine. **

**Rating – The Journal is rated M for language, violence, and sex. There will also be mentions of dub/con. Be warned now, if that kind of thing bothers you, please don't read. Also, if you are under 18 go play minecraft or something. This story isn't for you.**

**Characters – This is a Dramione story. Ron and Harry fans might want to go away now.**

**Reviews – I love reviews, but I understand why readers don't leave them. I read all my reviews, but will probably only reply if you ask me a direct question.**

**I am posting this first chapter without a beta, so I apologize for any errors. If you see any, let me know and I'll fix them. :)**

**Thank you all for reading! **

**The Journal**

**Chapter One**

Hermione returned home to an empty flat after another long day at work. Her friends simply could not understand how she could spend twelve to fourteen hours a day working all alone in her small lab. They didn't understand how close she was to a breakthrough. Hell, she was pretty sure they didn't even know what she was working on or why it was so important to her. She simply had to find the solution soon. She was running out of time, and so she spent as many hours a day as she could in her lab. When she wasn't in her lab, she was home sleeping. Or working. Until she could return to her lab and continue her research.

Today was an ordinary day, a Tuesday if it really mattered to anyone. To Hermione, who worked seven days a week, it was just another day. It was nearing nine o'clock by the time she stepped out of her floo and into her living room. The room was sparsely furnished, as was the rest of the flat. A couch and an end table sat against the wall. Stacks of books lined the remaining walls. There were no pictures, no decorations, nothing to make the living space feel like a home. She had only moved in a few weeks earlier and had been spending so much time at work that she hadn't taken the time to really move in properly. Many of her belongings were still in boxes stacked in the spare room.

She had eaten take out at the lab earlier, so rather than stop by her kitchen for food, she headed straight to the bedroom where she stripped out of her robes before stepping into a steaming hot shower. Thirty minutes later she emerged from the steam, finally relaxed after another long day.

She took her time combing through her hair. The brown curls hung past her shoulders, the ends curling up over her breasts. The frizzy mass that followed her throughout her youth had smoothed out nicely as she matured. Although she wore it up most of the time to keep it out of her eyes and off her notes while she researched, at home she always let it hang loose.

She slipped into a pair of black sleep shorts and a bright pink tank top. Her damp hair felt cool against her skin and she savored the feeling for a long moment, just moving her head back and forth and letting her hair slide across her bare shoulders.

Her plan was to go straight to bed after her shower, and she was well on her way. She had the covers pulled down and her fan turned on. All she had to do was lie down and extinguish the light. It was when she turned around to sit down on her bed that she saw it, though.

There. Sitting on her night stand.

It was her journal. Of course, it was no ordinary journal. It was one of a pair of journals, a set that she had created specifically for herself and Ron. That was back when their relationship was still new, just after the war ended. She went on to trade school to specialize in potions and charms, and Ron went to Auror training with Harry.

The journals worked like a protean charm. When she wrote in hers, Ron would be able to read what she had written and respond back to her. She figured they could use the journals to keep in touch rather than depending on owls.

For months after she had given him the journal she had checked it every day. Occasionally she would write in it to try to get a response, but a message never came through for her. Eventually she had stopped checking it all together. She told herself that the charm she used hadn't worked, that was why he never wrote to her. She knew in her heart, though, that her charm was perfect as always. Ron simply didn't want to write to her. She tried not to take it personally, because really Ron didn't like to write at all, but it was hard not to feel a little slighted.

Tonight, though, as she turned to get into bed, the journal on her night stand caught her eye. It was merely dumb luck that it was sitting there, right next to her lamp. She had accidentally picked it up three days ago when she wanted something light to read. Rather than put it back on her bookshelf, she had laid it on the nightstand and left it there.

That's not why it caught her eye, though. No. The reason it caught her eye was because the silver lettering on the leather cover was glowing a soft blue color. A clear indication that she had an unread message waiting inside the journal.

She stared at the unassuming book for a long moment before she reached over and picked it up. Her fingers drifted across the lettering gently. She sat on the bed slowly and took a deep breath before opening the cover reading the words written inside.

"_I've debated with myself every day since I received this book, trying to decide whether or not I should write to you. I've opened the cover and sat with quill in hand for many long moments nearly every day, simply trying to decide what to say. There are so many different things, you see. Things that I would like to say to you, if ever given the chance. For years I have thought that I would never get that chance. Then fate intervened. The Powers That Be delivered to me this beautifully crafted journal and with it the opportunity to say all the things that I've wanted...no, needed to say for far too long now._

_Even so, it has been weeks, more than weeks actually, it has been nearly two months since the journal came to my possession and still I delayed in contacting you, in establishing the connection. Because I had no idea what to say._

_I saw you today at the Ministry. You were having lunch with your friends. I doubt that you noticed I was there. You never looked at me, and you would have no reason to._

_I noticed you, though. I noticed that you barely ate any of your lunch. I noticed that you practically flinched every time your boyfriend touched you. I noticed that you worked on arithmancy formulas while your friends discussed a Quidditch match. I noticed that you worked late again tonight._

_Your friends, they think you are just a workaholic. I know better. You aren't a workaholic. You are obsessed. I haven't figured out why yet, but I will. Whatever project you are working on has become more than a puzzle to you, it has become personal. _

_I decided that today was the day that I had to write to you. I had to let you know that you aren't alone. I notice you. I see you. And I am here if ever you want to talk."_

Her fingers drifted over the words written in such a beautiful script. Tears streamed down her face as she read. Whoever was writing these beautiful words saw her like no one else did. It was more than a little disconcerting to know that out there somewhere there was a man? A woman? Someone that could know her so well, better than her closest friends even.

She had a million questions forming in her mind. Who had written the letter? How did they get hold of the journal? How long had they been watching her? Should she write back? What should she say?

She read the words again, and summoned a quill. She had to respond. She had to curious of a nature not too. She held the quill over the parchment for a long moment trying to put her thought in order.

"_You seem to know so much about me. I'm not sure whether to be flattered or creeped out, honestly. I would like to know how you came to be in possession of my journal, and how you knew that I, specifically, have the counterpart. Do I know you? Are we friends? I would guess not. Why not?_

_I appreciate the concern. Let me assure you, though, I am not obsessed with my work. I work a lot. The project I'm on is important. When I find the right formula, I will be able to help a lot of people that are suffering needlessly. I am so close, too. I can feel it. Any day now I will have a breakthrough. I just have to keep at it while I still can."_

As soon as she wrote the words she knew she had said too much. She wanted to erase them from the parchment, but they vanished on their own far too quickly, only to appear in the other journal, in the hands of some unknown entity that already knew far too much about her.

Frustrated with herself, she slammed the book shut and dropped it on the night stand. She stood and started pacing back and forth in a small path along the side of her bed. After several minutes she had finally talked herself into forgetting about it and going to bed. So she had given away to much information. At this point the only thing she could do was hope that whoever had the other journal would not use that information maliciously. With a deep sigh she lay down on her bed and pulled the covers over her bare legs. With a flick of her wand the light turned off and the room filled with darkness. Who knows, maybe he wouldn't even catch her little slip up.

Her eyes were drifting shut, ready to surrender to sleep when a soft blue glowing light invaded her conscious and her brown eyes snapped open, drawn once again to the indicator light on the journal.

He was writing to her, responding to her message. She swallowed thickly, wondering if she wanted to know what he had to say. In the end, her curious nature won out. She knew she'd never be able to sleep not knowing what it said. With another deep sigh, she flipped the light back on and picked up the book.

"_We know each other, though not well. No, we have never been friends. As for 'why not', well, if you knew who I was, you would know exactly why not. That's why I'd like to stay anonymous for the time being. Besides, you probably wouldn't believe me if I told you._

_I'll tell you how I came by the journal, but I don't think you'll like it. A friend of mine found a box full of books near the rubbish bin behind his flat. There were several high quality books that were practically brand new. The latest version of Quidditch, Through the Ages, a complete Wizarding Geneology, and a first edition of the Quidditch Player's Guidebook. Nestled in between was this journal. My friend wouldn't part with the genealogy or the guidebook, but he didn't see the point in keeping a journal. Of course, he never opened it like I did. Inside the cover was a card that explained how the journal worked. That's how I knew you had the companion book. From the note you had written to the intended recipient._

_There is a fine line between dedication and obsession. I must say I'm intrigued by your passion for your work. I would love to know what the project is that you are working so hard on. I am rather skilled in potions myself. Perhaps I could offer my assistance?"_

She barely hesitated this time before picking up her quill and responding.

"_I have no idea who you are. In fact all you've told me is that I know you and we aren't friends. I don't even know if you are a witch or a wizard! And yet you expect me to divulge my research to you? Sorry, but that is not going to happen. For all I know, you are trying to sabotage my research! Or you could be some crazy stalker or something!"_

She chose not to respond to his story of how he came across the journal. That was a matter she would take up with Ron. All the books that were mentioned were books she had given to him over the years for holiday or birthday presents. And he had thrown them away, along with the journal. Yes, she would deal with him later. For now she wanted to find out who her mystery writer was, and why he could possibly be interested in her research. Her own boyfriend didn't even care about her research. Why would a complete stranger?

As her thought started to run away with her, she watched as his words appeared on the page.

"_Merlin, are you always so paranoid? I'm a wizard. We went to school together. You beat my scores in every class. That narrows down the field, doesn't it?_

_We weren't friends. Things have changed since school. People have changed. Views have changed. I've changed. You've changed. _

_I don't want to sabotage you. I only want a chance to get to know you, and I want you to get to know me, too. I find it interesting that your first thought was to protect your research, and your own personal safety was just an afterthought."_

"_Being paranoid has saved my life many times. As a general rule, I don't trust people._

_You were in Slytherin, weren't you?"_

She sat back against her headboard with her knees pulled up in front of her and the journal resting against them. Slytherin wasn't just a guess. She was sure of it. Why else would he point out that views had changed? Oddly, knowing that small fact actually made her feel better, more relaxed about the whole situation.

"_You trust Potter and Weasel."_

She read the statement over and over again. His assumption didn't sit well with her. If felt like a lie. It was a lie. Should she set him straight, or let him keep believing it? She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Who was this guy? Why did she want him to know the truth rather than what everyone saw? This was a truth that she barely even acknowledged to herself.

"_I trust myself. Harry and Ron are my friends. We've been through a lot together. I know what I can trust them with, and more importantly what I can't."_

She wondered if that was too big of a confession. She settled back and waited for his reply. Her teeth worried her bottom lip and her fingers absentmindedly twirled a stray lock of hair. A smile pulled at her lips when he responded.

"_Interesting. I would think you Gryffindors trusted each other implicitly."_

She laughed. Surely he didn't believe that? Leave it to a Slytherin to think Gryffindors were so naive.

"_Hardly. It is getting very late and I need an early start tomorrow. Good night, mystery Slytherin."_

"_Sleep well. Perhaps we can talk again some time?"_

She smiled to herself as she read his words.

"_I would like that."_

She closed the journal and put it on the night stand. She was still smiling when she closed her eyes and fell asleep. Her dreams were filled with a mysterious stranger that swept her off her feet and changed her entire world.

**AN: Okay...so what did you think? Let me know if I should continue. :) - mezy**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hey guys! I'm pretty sure 11 reviews for a first chapter is a record for me, so I'll take that as a sign that you want me to keep writing / posting this story. :) I'm making a few changes in what I had originally written, but we're still very much on track. This story is not complete yet, so I can't guarantee a posting schedule. I'm going to try to stick with 1 chapter a week. As always, please review and let me know what you think.**

**Again, posting without a beta. I am looking for a new beta reader if anyone is interested PM me.**

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**The Journal**

**Chapter Two**

Was she obsessed? Hermione liked to think of herself as dedicated rather than obsessed. Dedicated, and maybe just a little bit desperate. She was running out of time to find the cure.

There was a little known syndrome in the wizarding world that was referred to as PCS, or _post-crucio syndrome_. After the first wizarding war many people died from PCS. It afflicted people that had been hit with the cruciatas curse multiple times. The higher the intensity of the cruciatas curse, the faster the PCS would progress. There were four stages. The first stage consisted of tingling or numbness in the extremities and fatigue. The second stage consisted of migraine headaches and muscle spasms or twitches. The headaches would increase in frequency and intensity throughout stage two and into stage three. Stage three patients had debilitating headaches, seizures and narcolepsy (falling asleep suddenly). The last stage of PCS was a coma. The patient would fall asleep and not wake up. Ever. Three to four weeks after entering a coma, the patient would die.

According to the historical data that Hermione had found, the entire process took between two and four years. She had began her research six months after the defeat of Voldemort, and she had been working on it ever since. She began by studying the curse itself, figuring out what exactly it did to the human body. She used muggle technology to pinpoint the damage to the nervous system. Then she set about testing various healing potions to find one that would repair the damage. When she hadn't been able to find an existing potion, she began developing a new one. She was close to finding the formula. So very close, but still so far away. One of her ingredients would reduce the swelling that ultimately closed off the blood vessels, but it would also react with more than one other ingredient in explosive and deadly ways. It wouldn't work.

So that's where she was now with her research. She knew there had to be another ingredient out there that would give her the same result without the side effects and interactions. That's why she was spending hours searching through text books and reference books and obscure journals. Somewhere there had to be that one magical ingredient that would finish off her potion.

But again, she was running out of time.

She stared at the letter in her hand. Her heart had plummeted when she read it. It wasn't good news. Mrs. Parkinson, Pansy's mother, had become the first victim of PCS from the second wizarding war. She had passed away that very morning, three and a half weeks after going into a coma.

For Mrs. Parkinson, Hermione had already run out of time. She was too late to save her. Would she find the cure? Would she ever find her one elusive ingredient that she just knew had to be out there? Or would she fail not only Mrs. Parkinson, but all of the PCS patients?

Her hands shook as tears ran down her face. This was her fault. She should have spent more time researching, more time trying to find it, trying to find the cure. If she had, then maybe...maybe. She sighed through her tears. There was no maybe. All she could do was keep going. Mrs. Parkinson wasn't the only one that had been counting on her. There were others. Most of them were in stage two or three by now, though there were a few that were still in stage one. There was one other patient that was in stage four. She had fallen into a coma only days before. It was Narcissa Malfoy.

Hermione pictured her lying there in her bed at St. Mungo's, with her blonde hair spread out around her like an angel. Narcissa had never been one of Hermione's favorite people, but that didn't mean she was going to let the woman die. Not if she could help it. With new resolve, she dried her eyes and opened another book on potion ingredients.

Several hours later, when her vision was to blurry to read the words on the page anymore, she decided to call it quits for the night. She packed up several books to look through over the weekend before locking up her lab at the Ministry and heading home. When she finally stumbled out of the floo and into her living room, she could barely keep her eyes open. She crawled into bed and instantly fell asleep.

Saturday morning she woke with a headache and a heavy feeling in her heart. She sat on her small balcony sipping on a cup of tea and just staring off into the distance while negative thoughts bore down on her. Whatever the reason for her melancholy, she didn't want to be alone.

She sent an owl to Ron, asking him if he was busy that day and would like to visit. His reply came quickly, he was going to a Quidditch match with Harry and Ginny, but she was welcome to join them. Quidditch. She shivered. That was almost worse than spending the day alone. Needless to say, she declined the invite.

The feeling was still there, though. She tried to shake it off while she took a shower and got dressed, but it wouldn't go away. Deciding to just get out of her flat for a little while, she grabbed her purse, wand and keys. In a last minute decision, she also picked up the journal and a pen before walking out the door and into muggle London.

She walked down the street to a small cafe where she ordered a bagel with cream cheese and tea. Then she sat down at a booth in the corner that had plenty of sunlight pouring into it from the window. She opened the journal and began writing.

"_Are you busy today?"_ She hadn't written in the journal since the night he had contacted her. That had been three days earlier. She was expecting him not to answer, or to answer that he was busy.

"_No. Today is my day off. I'm just spending time with my mother. Are you not working today?"_

She smiled to herself. He responded. He hadn't been a figment of her imagination after all.

"_I might later. I'm not feeling well today, so I thought I would take a little break. I didn't get home until after midnight last night. If you aren't busy I could use someone to talk to. I don't want to interrupt your time with your family, though."_

His reply was almost immediate.

"_It's fine. She's...sleeping. What would you like to talk about?"_

"_Anything except potion ingredients and quidditch." _She relaxed into her seat and sipped her tea. In her mind she imagined that she was talking to an old friend. A pen-pal maybe. She knew she needed to be careful just in case the person she was talking to was not a good guy. Part of her wanted to trust him, though. Part of her just wanted someone she could talk to that might actually listen to what she was saying.

"_Okay. Those are two of my favorite things to talk about, so why don't you start?"_

She nearly snorted into her tea.

"_Really? Potions ingredients as one of your favorite things to talk about? I'll keep that in mind for a later date. Whenever I try to talk potions with my friends they roll their eyes at me and tune me out."_

"_I did tell you that I'm rather skilled with potions. I started studying for the potions master exams, but I had to put that on hold when...well, due to family issues. Besides, your friends are idiots. I will never understand how you manage to have intelligent conversations with them."_

She laughed to herself. She wouldn't call the conversations that she had with Ron or Harry 'intelligent' by any means.

"_It's been a long time since I had an intelligent conversation with anyone. Maybe that's what I'm looking for today. I need a break from the books. I need some sunshine on my face. And I need to communicate with someone who understands me. Also, a hug would be really nice right about now." _She cringed as she watched the last sentence fade away. She really needed to watch her filter when talking to this man.

"_Regretfully, I can't do anything about the hug. However, I'm free all day to talk."_

She smiled at his words. She could almost feel him wrapping his arms around her shoulders and squeezing her gently. It was entirely possible that she was losing her mind. Or that she had been devoid of human contact for far too long. She looked out the window of the cafe and saw a small park across the street where people were talking, playing, laughing.

"_Do you have a bucket list? You know, things you would like to do before you die?"_ She wasn't sure what made her ask that question, but as she watched the people across the street living their lives without a care in the world it suddenly seemed quite important.

"_That's kind of heavy. I haven't really thought about it I guess. Do you?"_

She continued watching the people across the street. One family, in particular, caught her interest. A man, a woman and a toddler that were sitting on a blanket playing and laughing with each other.

"_Yes, though I don't think I'll ever be able to complete it."_ Tears pricked at her eyes and she wiped them away gently.

"_Why not? You have your whole life to complete it, right?"_

"_Yes, but time flies. Blink and it's over." _Yes, the melancholy was back, full force. _"I would like to visit Greece and America. I want to ride a roller coaster again like I did with my dad when I was young. I want to finally learn how to fly a stupid broom on my own. I want to fall in love with a man that will look at me like I'm his whole world. I want to get married and have children."_

The words were on the parchment before she stopped to think about what she was writing, or who she was writing it to. She ate her bagel while she waited for his response, which took several long minutes to come through.

"_You will. It would probably happen sooner rather than later if you dumped the Weasel."_

Despite the heaviness in her heart, his words made her smile, even though she knew he was wrong.

"_Not likely. Not when I spend two-thirds of my time working and the other third sleeping. I should probably break up with Ron. He's only my boyfriend in name, really. I just don't have time to deal with the drama that would cause right now." _

It was true. She had thought of breaking up with Ron many times over the last six months or so. Usually she would think of it when he showed up at her flat expecting sex. Or when she would have to quit working to go to some mandatory work function in which the Aurors' significant others were socially expected to be present. In reality, with the exception of eating lunch together at the Ministry, those were the only times they even saw each other anymore. She hadn't even found time in the last few days to ask Ron about the books she had given him, including the journal, that had somehow ended up in his rubbish bin.

"_That's a hell of a reason to stay with the guy, Granger."_

"_I know, right? A breakup right now would just take up too much time, time that I need to spend in the lab. I should be in the lab right now."_

She sighed deeply before packing the journal back into her purse, leaving a tip on the table, and leaving the cafe. She really had taken too much time off already. It was almost midday and she had done nothing productive yet. She didn't head home, though, even if she should have. Instead she walked across the street and sat on an empty park bench before pulling the journal back out of her purse and opening it again.

"_You are taking a much needed break, remember?" _The message was waiting for her when she sat down. It made her smile to herself. Yes, she was taking a much needed break.

"_I am. And I'm enjoying this beautiful day. It's been too long since I just sat in the sunlight. So you know my relationship status, what about yours? Do you have a girlfriend? A wife?" _

She listened as the birds sang and the children played, but she was intently watching the blank page, waiting for his response.

"_No. It's been awhile since I had a girlfriend. I have too many things going on in my life right now to give any woman the attention she would deserve."_

She breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't be sure why, but the thought that her mystery Slytherin had someone special in his life already just didn't sit well with her. Now that she knew he was unattached, she relaxed back into her seat on the park bench.

From there the conversation flowed easily. They discussed everything from their favorite colors, to their ideal first dates. They talked about their favorite professors at Hogwarts and debated house elf rights. It wasn't until the sun started to set that Hermione realized she had spent most of the day talking with him. Not only that, but the melancholy feeling she had started the day with was all but gone. In its place was a feeling that maybe she wasn't alone after all. Maybe there was someone else out there that also just needed someone to talk to every now and then.

Reluctantly she told him good bye and walked back to her flat. Once inside she made herself dinner and ate alone before opening the books that she had brought home with her and reading well into the night. The 'break' she had taken that morning reinvigorated her. It helped her to relax a bit and took just a bit of the weight off of her shoulders. And even though she still didn't find the ingredient she was looking for, when she awoke Sunday morning it was with renewed hope. 

**AN: Thanks for reading! Leave me a review and let me know what you think. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Sorry for the long wait! This chapter is twice as long as the others, so hopefully that makes up for it. Also a reminder – this story is rated M for a reason! If you are under age, go away! :)**

**Also, thank you for the awesome reviews! Keep them coming.**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Three**

Tuesday morning found Hermione awake earlier than normal with a pounding headache. She blamed it on the lack of sleep and the rain that was pouring down outside. Her mood matched the weather; gray, overcast and stormy. A hot shower and a pain relief potion later and she was feeling much better, though.

She dressed for work in black robes and pulled her hair up in a bun as she always did. She looked herself over in the mirror with a critical eye. Her robes were too big. At one point in time they had fit perfectly, but she had lost some weight over the past few months due to her intense work schedule. Now they hung off of her and looked baggy. Not only that, but they were so plain. All black, no color to them at all. She looked like she was going to a funeral. Today was a special day. She didn't want to look plain and boring and frumpy. She wanted to look nice. There wasn't anything wrong with that, was there? She just wanted to look good on her birthday. Chances were that her friends would make a fuss over her at lunch or something, which would draw attention from other employees. So you see, it made perfect sense for her to want to look good.

It couldn't have been because of the mystery man that she had been conversing with through the journal for a couple of weeks now. That thought never even crossed her mind. Not that she would admit to, anyway.

She took the baggy black robes off and threw them on the floor. She searched through her closet until she found what she was looking for. A set of light blue robes with dark blue crocheted trim. Ginny had bought them for her two years earlier and she had never worn them. At the time they had been too small for her. She pulled the robes over her head and smiled when she realized they fit perfectly now. When she looked in the mirror again, she couldn't help but smile at what she saw. The blue color looked great with her skin tones, and the darker blue trim really brought out the brown in her eyes.

Today was going to be her day. She could feel it. She was going to find the ingredient she needed today. With a final look in the mirror and a deep breath, she left her flat with a renewed sense of purpose. This would be a good day. It was her birthday, after all. It had to be a good day.

By lunchtime, she was feeling less than sure about that.

She was making no progress on her potion. She was still stuck in this limbo where she couldn't move forward until she found the right ingredient, and it was becoming very frustrating for her.

When it was time to break for lunch, she was more than happy to leave her lab for a little while. She was looking forward to seeing Ron and Harry, and she was almost giddy with the anticipation of seeing what her friends might have done for her birthday. A month earlier they had filled the cafeteria with balloons and streamers for Harry's birthday. She didn't expect anything as extravagant as that. A few balloons and a German chocolate cake, maybe?

She glanced into the seating area as she got into line, but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. The first twinge of disappointment hit her, but she fought it back. They may just be waiting for her to come to the table before they brought out the balloons and cake. Yes, that had to be it.

She went through the line and got herself a sandwich and an apple. As she paid for her food, she scanned her eyes across the tables until she found her friends. They were all sitting together. Ron, Harry, Luna and Neville were already at the table and eating away. They always managed to get there first since her lab was in the fifth level basement and the Auror department was only a floor above the cafeteria. It didn't seem quite fair, she thought. Ignoring that little tidbit, she made her way to the table and sat down in between Ron and Luna.

Ron and Harry were discussing Quiditch. Again. Neville and Luna were discussing some kind of mythological creature and whether or not it really existed. Again.

She said hello to everyone and was acknowledged by either a quick 'hello' back or a nod of the head by each of her friends. She waited, but the conversation flow never changed. None of them suddenly pulled out a cake and yelled Happy Birthday. As the time dragged on and she ate her sandwich, watching her friends converse amongst themselves but not including her in the discussions at all, she found herself wishing she had brought a book or some of her research with her.

She finished eating in silence. Disappointment and anger were battling each other for control of her heart as she silently stood from the table, threw away her trash, and returned to her lab.

She saw it as soon as she opened the door. Sitting on her desk was a glass vase full of beautiful flowers in a wide range of colors. A smile broke across her face. The disappointment and the anger dissipated instantly.

A few steps and she was standing in front of her desk, smelling the fragrant flowers. She opened the card that had been tucked inside the flowers. When she read the simple message her breath caught in her throat and her hand flew up to cover her heart. There was no signature, but the handwriting…she would know that handwriting anywhere. In his beautiful script writing that she had gotten so used to reading, her mystery man had simply written "_Happy Birthday!"_

She was still disappointed that her friends seemed to have forgotten her birthday, but she was elated that somehow _he_ had known and that he hadn't forgotten her as they did. With a small smile still in place she went back to work researching potions ingredients.

She worked well into the evening, half expecting her friends to come and find her, but knowing that they wouldn't. Eventually she called it an evening and headed home. The hallways of the Ministry were all but deserted. She was used to leaving well after everyone else had. The echo of her shoes across the floor in the empty hallway didn't bother her as it would some. In fact, she took comfort in knowing there was no one else around.

She stepped into the floo network with every intention of going home, taking a long, hot bath and curling up with a book. Her plans changed when she stepped out of the floo and into her living room. She hadn't even caught her breath or wiped the soot from her face when a loud, accusing voice caught her attention.

"Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting here for you for hours!"

She looked up to see Ron sitting on her couch, a glass of her firewhiskey in his hand and a half empty bottle sitting on the end table.

"I've been at work. Where else would I have been?" She rolled her eyes at him. Honestly. Since when did he care where she was anyway? Unless…why had he been waiting there for her? Maybe…maybe he hadn't forgotten her birthday after all. Maybe he had been trying to surprise her? Her eyes widened as she entertained that thought.

"Like I would know. We never see each other anymore 'Mione. I miss you." He tossed back the firewhiskey and slammed the glass on the table before staggering to his feet.

"So you came here tonight because you miss me?" Her eyes were narrowed as she realized he hadn't come to surprise her at all.

"I am a man, 'Mione. I have needs, you know? And you're never around anymore." He swayed on his feet as he stepped closer to her, his hands coming up to glide over her shoulders.

She shivered involuntarily and flinched away from his touch.

"Sex. You came here tonight because you want laid?" She stepped back away from him and considered if she should pull her wand out and hex his ass or not.

"I'm not picky, you know. You can just suck my cock if you'd rather." He lunged for her. His hands grabbed her shoulders and pushed her against the wall and his lips attacked her mouth. His movements were sloppy. His kiss tasted like firewhiskey. Hermione was trying not to gag when he stuck his tongue in her mouth.

"Ron! Stop!" She finally managed to push him away only an inch or two. Just far enough that his mouth wasn't covering hers and she could breathe. All she could smell was alcohol and it made her stomach turn.

"What's the matter, baby?" He tried to sound seductive as his hands started to wander across her body. His slurred words sent another shiver of disgust down her spine.

"I'm not up for this tonight, Ron. I just, I don't feel very well." She wasn't lying. Her stomach was in knots. Her skin was crawling. She needed him to back away, to stop touching her, to give her a little bit of room to breathe for Merlin's sake!

"Don't worry, baby. I'll take care of everything." He lifted the skirts of her robe up to her waist

"Go home, Ron. Sleep it off." Her voice was shaking. Her whole body was shaking. She tried pushing him away again as she used the wall behind her as leverage.

"Come on, 'Mione. I need you." He leaned in to kiss her again. His hands gripped her waist tightly, his fingernails digging into her flesh. She closed her eyes as he pressed his lips against hers and tried to take shallow breaths so she wouldn't choke on the alcohol stench.

"See baby, you need me too. If it weren't for me, no one would ever want to touch you." He pulled her panties off of her and grabbed her ass with both hands. "Nobody else will ever want you."

She was pinned between him and the wall. Her wand was inside her purse where she couldn't summon it. Panic flickered through her as she realized she truly was helpless.

"Ron, please. I don't want to do this."

"Dammit, Hermione! Why are you such a frigid bitch?" He pushed away from the wall, finally giving her room to breathe air that didn't reek of firewhiskey. "Here I am trying to rekindle some of the passion in our relationship and you're ruining it by being a fucking prude! I thought we were past all that? We have had sex before, you know!"

He was right. They had. So why was it different now?

"This isn't 'passion', Ron! You are drunk, for one thing. I've had a very long, very disappointing day and to be honest with you I'm not very happy with you right now. And what the hell do you mean nobody else will ever want me? You don't know that!" She pulled her skirt back down and opened her purse. She didn't pull her wand out yet, but she left it open so she could summon it if she needed to.

"Why wouldn't you be happy with me?" He poured another glass of firewhiskey before turning to glare at her. "What did I do?"

She stared at him incredulously. What did he do? Besides forgetting her birthday, breaking into her flat, and sexually assaulting her? She crossed her arms over her chest and took a couple of deep calming breaths. She glanced down to make sure her purse was still open. In doing so, she saw the corner of the journal sticking out of the inner pocket.

"Let's start with the fact that you threw all of the books I've given you as presents into the rubbish bin without ever opening them."

He stared at her for a minute, his face showing obvious surprise that she knew about that.

"You don't want me to fuck you because of that?"

Her eyes narrowed at his choice of words. With a flick of her wrist, her wand was in her hand.

"I think it's time for you to go home now, Ron."

He glared at her for a long moment before tossing back the remaining liquid in the glass.

"You're mental, 'Mione. I think all those books have finally turned your brain into mush." He dropped the floo powder into the fire. Before he stepped into the green flames he turned quickly and threw the glass across the room. It shattered against the wall only feet away from Hermione's head.

She waited until he had disappeared and the flames had returned to their normal color before she let herself sink down on the couch and her head dropped down into her hands. She didn't know how long she sat there before her heart rate had slowed down and her hands had stopped shaking. Eventually she stood, blocked off her floo network, reset her wards and went to the bathroom to take a very long, very hot shower.

She looked at herself in the mirror, much as she had earlier that morning. She had been so optimistic when she left her flat that morning. Now all of her optimism was gone. This had not been a good day at all. If anything it had been even more disappointing than every previous day combined.

A thought flickered through her mind, though. An image of a beautiful flower arrangement in a glass vase sitting on her desk after lunch.

She opened the journal and wrote to her mystery man.

"_The entire world can kiss my ass today. Except for you. Thank you for the flowers."_

"_Such language. I didn't know Hermione Granger even knew how to curse. You are welcome for the flowers. I hope you liked them?"_

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. It was a small smile, but still it was the first genuine smile she had all day.

"_Of course I know how to curse. It's not that difficult. I usually just curse very quietly so others can't hear me. I do have a pure-as-the-driven-snow reputation to uphold you know." _She smirked even as she was writing. Anyone that knew her at all knew that was bullshit. There wasn't much that was pure about her.

"_Right. I'm not buying that for a second."_

She laughed out loud at his response. Maybe he already knew her better than she thought he did.

"_I loved the flowers. That was the one bright point to my day."_

"_So what was so bad about today?"_

She stared at the words in the journal for a long moment. Should she tell him? What was the point in telling him she had a shitty day if she wasn't going to elaborate? She sighed deeply. There were so many bad things that had happened, she wasn't sure where to start.

"_A lot of things, really. I'm still stuck in my research. Today is my birthday and not one of my friends remembered. Ron was waiting for me when I got home after work. I thought...maybe..."_

She paused in her writing as she remembered seeing Ron waiting in her living room. He hadn't remembered her birthday. He hadn't wanted to do something special for her. Hell, he didn't even want to talk to her. She had barely made it into the living room before he had his hands all over her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she remembered pushing against him, asking him to stop, telling him she really wasn't in the mood.

"_It doesn't matter. What I thought was wrong."_ She shook her head against her own thoughts. She didn't know why she had been so disappointed. She really should have known better. What had happened had been pretty typical.

"_I'll say it again. Your friends are idiots, and your boyfriend is their king."_

She sighed and dropped her head back to lean against her headboard. Personally she didn't think 'idiot' was a strong enough word to describe Ron.

"_You have no idea."_ She barely even lifted her head as she wrote out the words on the parchment. She wondered if she should really be telling this man any of these feelings. Probably not, she decided, but there was something so…freeing about finally being able to tell someone, anyone, what was actually on her mind, even though she was editing out quite a bit.

"_You deserve so much better. You deserve a man that will treat you with love and respect. A man that will let you know how special you are every day of your life."_

A strange warmth spread through her chest and a smile tugged at her lips. Oh, this guy was good. He was definitely a charmer. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed ever so slightly. What was she supposed to say to something like that? Of all the things that Hermione had done and seen and experienced in her short life, flattery was not one of them.

Should she say thank you? Should she protest that she really wasn't that special, because surely she wasn't special at all? Should she not respond at all?

She had the quill poised over the parchment, still not entirely sure what to say, when more words appeared.

"_You are, you know. Special. Unique. One of a kind. And any man should consider himself lucky to be with you."_

Her small grin turned into a full smile and she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks, even though there was no one there to see it.

"_That's very sweet of you to say." _She didn't believe a word of it, of course, but it was still sweet.

"_You don't believe me."_

She laughed to herself. How did he know her so well already?

"_Oh, I'm unique alright. I'm not sure that's a good thing as far as men are concerned. I'm entirely focused on my work. I don't wear slutty clothes or heavy makeup. I'm quite awkward around people. And most men don't like being with a woman that is smarter than them."_

She could have listed more examples, but she didn't want to seem too self-deprecating so she forced herself to stop there.

"_It sounds like you need a man that isn't intimidated by your intelligence. A man that sees your natural beauty and craves it. A man that knows and understands that you aren't focused on your work, you are driven by an unknown force and will let nothing stop you from finding the answers you seek. A man that is willing to stand behind you, help you when you need help, hold you when you need to be held."_

Her breath caught in her throat. Her hands absentmindedly pushed her hair behind her ears. Her heart was racing as she realized she wanted to see this man. She wanted to hear these words slip between his lips rather than read them on parchment. She wanted to know who the hell she was talking to that knew exactly what to say to her.

"_That sounds wonderful. How do you know such a man exists?"_

She chewed on her bottom lip as she waited for his reply. What was she doing? Was she actually flirting with this guy? The things he was saying...what if he didn't mean any of it? What if this was all just some elaborate joke? What if he was laughing at her expense right now? She sucked in a long breath as his response came through.

"_He exists. He's just waiting for a sign that you're willing to take a chance."_

That strange warmth was back in her chest again. Her fingers itched to write out that she wanted to take a chance. She didn't, though. Her logical mind was telling her this wasn't the right time to take a chance. She needed to focus on her work, not her love life. People's lives were hanging in the balance. Maybe after she found the cure for PCS. Assuming that she did find the cure, that is.

Then again, maybe now was the perfect time to take a chance. What if she never had another opportunity like this?

"_It's hard to give a sign when I don't know someone is looking for one." _She sighed. She really didn't have time for all this. And there was a good chance he was bluffing anyway, laughing at her even now. With that in mind, she added one more sentence. _"Maybe he should stop waiting for a sign and make a move already." _

If he was laughing at her expense, that would shut him up. If he was, in fact, genuine with his interests...She chewed on her lip again as she wondered what he would do next.

"_Fair enough," _he replied. _"Good night, Hermione. Happy birthday."_

His abrupt dismissal took her by surprise. Usually she was the one to end the conversation rather than the other way around. She tried not to let herself think that he truly had been laughing at her all along.

"_Good night mystery man. And thank you."_ She reluctantly signed off and closed the journal.

Soon she was lying in the dark, willing her eyes to close. It didn't matter. She found sleep to be elusive. Her thoughts were plagued with memories of the time she had spent with Ron earlier in the evening. They were not pleasant memories and she did not wish to relive them. Her mind kept trying to imagine what would have happened if he hadn't relented when he did.

She tried to block out the images by reciting the words her mystery man had written to her. She even imagined them being whispered to her by a tall man with a velvety smooth voice that held her close and made her forget all about Ron. Her imagination was so great that her eyes flew open, almost expecting him to be lying next to her.

She let out a deep sigh as she realized she was fighting a losing battle. She couldn't even keep her eyes closed, let alone actually fall to sleep. Eventually she gave up even trying. She turned the light back on, grabbed her journal and a quill, and went to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

She sat at the table and stared at the small leather bound book until the teapot started to whistle. Surely he wasn't still awake? It was after midnight already. Any sane person would be asleep by now. That description obviously didn't apply to herself.

She ran her fingers through her hair. What was she doing, then? Why did she feel the need to write to him now? She knew the answer. She had to write to him. She had to let him know. She hadn't meant to give him false hope. She was angry and hurt after what Ron had done. She had flirted with her mystery man. So what? It had felt good to have someone saying such sweet things to her. But she had to let him know not to pursue her any further. No good could come of it.

She sipped her tea as she thought of what she needed to write. Another voice in her head was telling her not to do it. Just go with it. See what happens. Eventually he'll realize how much he screwed up all on his own. He seems intelligent enough.

Wouldn't that hurt him, though? She didn't want to hurt anyone else if she could help it. She could feel a headache coming on as her thoughts bounced back and forth.

What the hell was she supposed to tell him? She could warn him that she really is as boring and focused on work as she appears to be. She could emphasize that her research is her life and she really doesn't have time for anything else at the moment. She could tell him that people tend to think of her as a nightmare and only want to associate with her for her hero status.

Finally she reached for the journal and flipped it open.

Her quill hovered over the parchment and her eyes widened as she realized he had left her another message. Somehow she had missed the signal that she had a message waiting. The surprise of seeing a new message waiting for her was topped only by what the message said.

"_By the way, you looked stunning today. That color blue looks amazing on you."_

She dropped the quill and slammed the book shut. No. She couldn't tell him any of those things. She couldn't push him away. Not when he was the only person that actually saw her.

It was a horrible idea.

The timing was way off.

It was so fucking selfish of her to even consider it.

She didn't even know who this man was!

It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

All that mattered was that he saw her. He knew her. He was waiting for her.

She took a deep breath and opened the journal once again. There was a slight tremble in her hand as she wrote a short reply to him.

"_I'm willing to take a chance. Are you?"_

She watched the words fade away and she knew. Everything was about to change.

**AN: Okay, there's chapter 3. Let me know what you think. :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thank you all for reading and reviewing. Every review makes my day! Please keep them coming. :)**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Four**

Hermione stayed awake for a long time after sending off her last message. The sky was already lightening to gray by the time she was able to close her eyes and drift off to sleep. When she opened her eyes again the sun was beating through the window and she was over an hour late. Horrified that she was so late, she jumped out of bed as soon as she realized the time. Foregoing her entire morning routine, she threw on a set of robes, the same black boring robes she had discarded the day before. Her hair was pulled up into a quick, messy bun. She didn't bother with make up. She didn't even bother with breakfast. Less than ten minutes after she had woken up, she was headed to the Ministry.

Her day didn't get much better from there. It seemed like anything that could go wrong, did. Everything from her apothecary shorting her purchase order to her supervisor suggesting she bring in an assistant. She kept dropping things, too, which was extremely annoying. It was just because she was tired. Tired, and she hadn't eaten all day. She felt shaky and irritable but she knew a little bit of food would go a long way to solving those problems.

Unfortunately, as it seemed to be the pattern for the day, she was running late getting to the cafeteria for lunch also. Another impromptu meeting with her supervisor had put her behind schedule yet again, and by the time she made it to the cafeteria she only had five minutes before they would stop serving food. The grills were already turned off. She would have to get something cold. With a sigh, she moved towards the coolers. A cold sandwich would be better than nothing at all. Before she got that far, though, someone grabbed her arm and started pulling her in the opposite direction.

"Come on, 'Mione. We've been waiting for you, but you're late. Our lunch break is almost over."

"Ronald! What in Merlin's name are you doing?" She protested as he pulled her across the room, further and further away from where the food was.

"You'll see." He ignored her protests and her shaky hands and continued to pull her across the cafeteria. Hermione stumbled along behind him. She feebly tried to pull her arm free of his grasp. However, the lack of food was causing her blood sugar to drop. As a result she was much weaker than normal. All she could do was follow him and hope she didn't fall.

"Ron, I really need to eat something. Can't this wait a few more minutes?" She was barely finished talking when Ron stepped aside and revealed a table decorated with balloons and a birthday cake and presents. Harry, Luna, Neville and Ginny were at the table grinning at her.

"Happy Birthday, 'Mione." Ron smiled at the surprised look on her face. He leaned in to kiss her. Memories of the previous evening at her flat flashed through her mind as she saw him leaning in. She moved ever so slightly so his lips only grazed her cheek. Then she lifted her hand to run her fingers through her hair and nonchalantly wiped the side of her face. To her credit, she managed to hide her shudder of disgust from all of her friends. Not that they were paying that much attention to her anyway.

Of course they all wished her a happy birthday and ushered her into a seat. Ron immediately started cutting the cake and handing out pieces.

"If you don't mind, we'll go ahead and eat cake while you open your presents? We have to be back to work in a few minutes." He didn't wait for her response before digging into his cake. She glared at him for a moment and glared at the cake. It looked lovely. Strawberry shortcake with extra strawberries.

She sighed. It really was too bad that she couldn't eat it.

By then her friends were all talking to her, wishing her Happy Birthday and handing her their presents. She smiled at them each in turn and thanked them for their gifts. Luna had given her a very nice quill set. It was by far her favorite gift. Neville gave her a book on plants and flowers. Now everyone knows that Hermione likes books, so you usually can't go wrong by giving her a book, but she really had no use for books on gardening. A fact that she had debated with him before. She had no time to raise flowers just for recreation. Ginny gave her a blue shirt that was very beautiful and very low cut. She couldn't imagine where she would ever wear it.

When she got to the last gift on the table, she was almost afraid to open it. It was an envelope and on the outside there was a roughly scribbled "For 'Mione, from Ron and Harry. Happy Birthday"

"Harry and I went in together on your gift." Ron grinned as he handed her the envelope.

She smiled thinly as she opened the seal on the envelope and pulled out a ticket. The smile froze on her face as she read the front of the ticket. This had to be a joke. They couldn't have possibly. They wouldn't have. They had to have known better.

"Isn't it great, 'Mione? The three of us can spend your birthday together. We'll have to leave around four o'clock to make it, but you can leave early for one night, right?"

She stared at the ticket for a long moment. Her mind barely even registered what he had said. Suddenly she realized that her friends, people that had been her friends since she was twelve years old, did not know her at all. Her boyfriend did not know her at all.

Everyone at the table was watching her, waiting for her response.

"You bought me a ticket to a Quiditch match?" Her voice was low, barely more than a whisper. "For tonight?"

"It's not just any match! It's the semi finals. Chudley Cannons versus Puddlemere United. And we're all going!" Ron was grinning from ear to ear.

Hermione felt like she had been punched in the stomach. She blinked her eyes quickly to dispel the tears that were starting to form there. This could not be happening. On top of the rest of her day being shit, on top of this disaster that was supposed to be a birthday luncheon, now he wanted her to leave work early to go to a stupid Quiditch game? Tonight?

"No, Ron. We aren't." She laid the ticket on the table in front of her. Her eyes glued to the offending slip of paper. "You two go on. Have a great time. I'm sorry, though. I really can't go tonight."

She didn't look up to see the looks on their faces. She didn't think she could handle the crestfallen expressions they would surely both have. No one said a word. Shortly after, Neville, Luna and Ginny excused themselves and went back to work.

"'Mione, it'll be fun. The three of us don't hang out enough anymore." Harry was watching her carefully. He didn't say anything, but he saw the moisture in her eyes. He knew there had to be something more going on, but didn't know what.

"I'm sorry. I really can't. I started brewing a potion that needs ingredients added at seven o'clock tonight. There is no way I can leave early. Maybe the three of us can get together this weekend instead? Maybe we could get dinner or something."

Ron picked the ticket up off the table.

"Right. Dinner. At midnight when you finally pull yourself away from work." He stood up and stalked out of the cafeteria without waiting for her response. Harry watched him go with a sigh.

"Yeah. Dinner sounds great. I'll owl you this weekend, okay?" He stood up and started to walk away. Then he paused and without turning back around he said "Happy Birthday, 'Mione."

"Thanks Harry." She watched him walk away with sadness in her heart and tears in her eyes. She knew, as Harry did, that they would not get together over the weekend. They never did.

A loud noise behind her brought her out of her reverie. She turned towards the noise only to see the gate dropping on the food area. The cafeteria was now closed. She sighed deeply and glanced around. Her table was empty, all of her friends had gone back to work. The decorations for her mini birthday celebration remained, along with the presents and two slices of strawberry shortcake.

With some quick wand work, the decorations vanished and the presents were shrunk down and placed in her pocket. It really would be a shame to throw the cake away, though. She looked around the cafeteria and noticed that most of the tables were empty. There were several groups of three or four people still sitting around, but she only had two pieces of cake.

She almost gave up and threw it away. Then she heard a laugh from behind her. She turned to see two men sitting at a table a few rows back. She recognized them immediately as Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy. She rarely had the opportunity to talk with either of them. As such she debated whether or not to approach them. After a long moment she decided to go for it. What was the worst that could happen? They could call her names and tell her to get lost. Somehow she really didn't think they would do that in the middle of the Ministry. Besides that, both of the men had made a name for themselves in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Surely they were past the old prejudices, right? Gathering up all of her Gryffindor bravery, she levitated the remaining strawberry shortcake and made her way to their table.

Malfoy was laughing at something that Zabini had said as she approached. The sound of his laugh gave her pause and her footsteps faltered. In all her years, she didn't think she had ever heard him laugh. As she neared them, he glanced up from his food tray and caught her eye. The laughter trailed off and Zabini turned in his seat to see what had distracted his partner from the excellent story he had been telling. The second his eyes landed on her, they widened in disbelief.

"Malfoy. Zabini." Nervously she bit into her bottom lip and pushed a few stray strands of hair behind her ear. She could feel both of them watching her, the question of 'what the hell does she want' was evident in both of their eyes. However, neither of them appeared aggravated by her presence, so she took that as a good sign.

"Granger." Malfoy was the first one to respond. His voice was inquisitive rather than argumentative. It surprised her, how smooth his voice was without the sneer she had become accustomed to in their youth.

"My friends brought me in a cake for my birthday and I have two slices left. I was wondering if either of you would like a slice?"

Zabini glanced around to see who might be watching this exchange, sure that the whole thing must be a joke. Hermione Granger offering himself and Draco cake? It couldn't be real.

Malfoy, however, never took his eyes off of her. It was unnerving the way he was looking at her. She was suddenly aware that her hair was still thrown up in a messy bun, that she hadn't put on makeup that morning, and that her eyes were still moist with unshed tears. She started chewing on her bottom lip again, a nervous habit she had picked up after the war.

"So would you like some? If you don't eat it, I'm just going to throw it away."

"Sure. I'll have a slice. It looks great." Malfoy took the pan and put a slice of the cake on his plate. "I could offer you a trade? I have an apple here that I'm not going to eat. Would you like it?"

She stood frozen for a long moment, not sure what she should do. She hadn't eaten anything all day. She was feeling shaky and slightly dizzy. That apple could very well be the one thing standing between her remaining on her feet for the rest of the day or passing out cold on the floor of the Ministry.

"If you're sure you aren't going to eat it, then yes, I would love to trade with you." She smiled as he handed her the apple and she grasped it with shaky fingers.

Blaise watched the exchange with interest. Surely this moment should be recorded into history books. Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger being somewhat amicable towards each other. Hell was going to freeze over. He was sure of it. And he figured if Draco was going to eat the cake, he could too. It did look really good.

"Thanks, Granger. This looks delicious." He scooped the remaining piece onto his plate and dug in. The first bite was just as delicious as it looked and he moaned in approval.

"I hope you both enjoy it." She smiled at his reaction, then with a relieved sigh she turned to walk away. However, the sudden movement triggered her dizziness and she felt herself losing balance as blackness crept into her vision. Startled, she grabbed hold of the nearest table for support.

"You okay there, Granger?" Malfoy's smooth voice asked her, much closer to her ear than she would have expected.

"Fine. I'm fine. Just a little dizzy, that's all." She tried to smile as she looked over her shoulder at him, surprised to see that he was right behind her. When had he stood up from the table? Their eyes locked together and for a long moment she couldn't breathe. The world around her ceased to exist. All she was aware of in that moment was two steel gray eyes that seemed to penetrate right through her. Eyes that held no malice for her. No hatred. No prejudice. In fact, they almost seemed...concerned?

Her breath caught in her throat and her vision started to black out yet again. This time she let her eyes fall closed and had the vague sensation of falling. She waited for the impact, but it never came. Instead she felt two strong arms around her.

The war had affected Hermione in many ways. She was more paranoid than ever, believing that 'constant vigilance' wasn't only a motto for war-times. She avoided being out in public at all costs. She hated being in large groups of people. And, most importantly, she hated being touched, with very few exceptions. Harry gave her a hug every now and then, and she tolerated it. Ron, well, she barely tolerated his touches as well. So when she felt arms wrap around her waist, logically she knew that they had to belong to Draco Malfoy. She should be repulsed, maybe even scared. She should be trying to get away from his embrace.

She certainly shouldn't feel safe in his arms.

She shouldn't, but she did. She felt safe. Safer than she had in many years.

"Whoa. It's okay, Granger. I've got you." His words sounded distant and muffled, like she was listening to them through water. She could feel his breath against her cheek, though, reassuring her.

Then the blackness covered her and she felt nothing at all.

**AN: So? What did you think? Cliffy...I know. ;) Sorry about that...**


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: It's been brought to my attention that chapters 2 and 3 posted in all bold letters. I don't know why they did that. When I read it on my Kindle or my laptop, they aren't in bold. When I read it on my desktop, they are. Weird, right? Anyway, I don't know how to fix it. So I'm very sorry, and hopefully this chapter posts right. LOL.**

**Thank you for all of the reviews, the favorites and the follows. You guys are awesome. :) Please keep reading and reviewing.**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Five**

Hermione could hear people talking around her. She could hear movement. She knew she needed to open her eyes, she just couldn't bring herself to do it yet.

"Come on, Granger. Wake up already."

It was the urgency in his voice, as well as the proximity, that finally convinced her to open her eyes. They fluttered against the lights for a moment before opening fully. Her mind didn't comprehend what it was seeing at first. She was lying on something hard. A table, maybe? Yes, it was definitely a table. And Malfoy was leaning over her, watching her. When her eyes were able to focus on his she could almost see the relief wash through him.

"It's okay. She's awake." He spoke over his shoulder. She looked past him to see Blaise standing up behind Malfoy, and a small crowd of people beyond him.

As soon as she saw the people milling around, trying to catch sight of her, trying to figure out what had happened to the great war heroine, she felt sick to her stomach. One hand covered her face while the other covered her stomach and she started mumbling curse words to herself. There was a reason why she never allowed herself to show weakness. Now the whole wizarding world would know that she had passed out at the Ministry. It would be the talk at the water cooler for days, or until something more exciting came along.

"See that, she's fine. Nothing to see here. Go on back to work now." Zabini was pushing people away from their section, trying to get the prying eyes to leave. She appreciated the effort but she was already humiliated. She just wanted to disappear.

"What happened to her?" More than one voice in the crowd was asking.

"You know, women fall at Malfoy's feet all the time. She probably couldn't resist any more than the rest of them can." There was some faint laughter throughout the crowd at Zabini's response.

Hermione, who still had her hand covering her face, simply shook her head and groaned to herself. She could practically hear the rumor mill starting already. By the end of the day, half of the Ministry would be convinced that she was involved in a secret affair with Draco Malfoy of all people!

"Alright, Granger. Most of them are gone. Can you sit up? Do we need to take you to Mungo's?" Malfoy gently moved her hand from her face and helped her sit up on the edge of the table.

"No. I'm fine. Thank you for...well. Thank you." She kept her eyes on the floor. Her mind was reeling. How could she have let herself be so vulnerable, and around him of all people?

'_Because you felt safe with him, remember?' _She did remember, only to well, just how safe she had felt in those few moments before she blacked out. She just couldn't figure out why.

"You're fine? Funny, that's what you said five minutes ago, too. Right before you collapsed and nearly knocked yourself simple on the table." He sounded angry. Maybe he was upset that he had to touch her, to catch her when she fell? There was a time when he would have been. Something told her that wasn't it, though. It was something else.

"I am fine. Really. I have hypoglycemia. Ordinarily it's no big deal. I haven't eaten anything today, though, so it's worse than normal." Why was she explaining herself to him? Was it because his gray eyes were still filled with concern, still watching her like she might collapse again at any moment?

"'Mione! What happened?" Hermione and Draco both looked up as Ron yelled out across the cafeteria. " Are you okay? Get the hell away from her, Malfoy!"

Hermione let out another deep sigh and mumbled" fucking hell" just loud enough that Draco was able to hear her. Her head was starting to hurt and her hands were shaking again and the last thing she needed at that moment was to deal with Ron.

"Ron, I'm fine, okay? Just go back to work." She needed to end this entire confrontation. She needed out of here quickly before she inadvertently caused another scene.

"No. Not until you tell me what happened. Did Malfoy do something to you?" He grabbed her hands and leaned down to whisper in her ear. " Tell me what he did to you."

She pulled her hands away quickly. Malfoy was the only that noticed how she flinched away from Weasley's proximity. He glanced at Blaise to see if he had seen it too, but Zabini was still trying to clear onlookers out of the room.

"All Malfoy did was save me from cracking my head open when I fell." She pushed him away and stood up unsteadily. " I told you all, I'm fine. I'm going back to work. I suggest you all do the same."

Her voice was ice cold and directed solely at the Weasley in the room. Blaise and Draco watched as she walked out of the room, slowly but steadily.

"Keep your hands off my girlfriend, Malfoy." Ron growled once she was safely out of earshot.

Draco might not have any animosity left towards the brightest witch of their age, but the same could not be said for the Weasel. He would always hate the Weasel, no matter what.

"Your girlfriend fell right into my arms, Weasley. She felt pretty good there, too, if I'm being honest about it." Yeah, he was trying to rile the Weasel up. That didn't mean it wasn't true. His arms were still tingling where he had held her.

"Right. Like you would even want a mudblood like her. We all know better, now, don't we?" Ron sneered at him.

Cold anger flashed through Draco's eyes and it took every ounce of control he had not to hex the ginger wizard. His beliefs had changed a long time ago, and he had worked long and hard to make people aware of that change.

"I wonder how long she would remain your girlfriend if she knew you were calling her such names behind her back." His voice was cold enough to freeze water.

Ron didn't miss the tone, or the implication. Even though Ron was known to be quick tempered, he was also a brilliant strategist. And it didn't take a brilliant strategist to know that he was outnumbered two to one and the men he was facing off against were members of the MLE. As much as he wanted to curse Malfoy, he knew that this wasn't the time or the place to do it.

"Watch it, Malfoy. And stay the hell away from 'Mione." With one final glare, he turned and stalked away.

Draco watched him go, still silently fuming over the gall of the redheaded prick. His wand hand was itching to send a curse at the retreating man. He refrained, though, just barely.

"Well, that was interesting." Blaise was leaning on a table, eating his slice of strawberry shortcake and watching his friend and partner try not to hex the Weasel in the back.

Draco ran a hand through his hair and sighed before turning back to their lunch table. As he turned, something caught his eye. Lying on the floor was the apple that he had given to Hermione. She must have dropped it when she fainted and she left in such a hurry that she forgot about it. He picked it up before returning to his lunch tray. The food on his tray was practically gone. Blaise still had a piece of coffee cake sitting on his tray, though. Draco picked it up and told Blaise he would meet him in their office. He didn't wait for a reply before walking out of the cafeteria.

* * *

Hermione returned to her lab after leaving the cafeteria. She locked her door and sat down at her desk with her head in her hands. This was an unmitigated disaster. Briefly she considered just saying to hell with it and going home for the day. She was still considering it when she heard a knock on her door. She groaned to herself. This couldn't possibly be anything good. No one ever came to visit her in her lab. She wasn't even sure Harry and Ron knew where her lab was located. That meant whoever was there now was only there because of the fiasco at lunch.

She took a moment to compose herself before wordlessly unlocking the door and letting it swing open. She was sure it would be Ron or Harry (or both) on the other side of the door. She was quite surprised to see Draco Malfoy step into her lab instead.

He sat down in a chair in front of her desk and regarded her for a long moment. She raised her brow in question as she wondered why he was there and what he could possibly want.

"Is there something I can do for you, Malfoy? Or did you just want to sit there and watch me work for the next six hours?"

He allowed a small smirk to pull on his lips at her brashness.

"You can do us both a favor, actually." He smirked in full now as he placed the food on her desk. It wasn't much, an apple and a piece of coffee cake, but it had to be better than nothing. " Here. Eat something before you pass out again."

She looked at the food for a long moment before picking up the coffee cake and a plastic fork.

"Thank you again, Malfoy." She looked him in the eye as she tried to express her sincere gratitude. He probably didn't realize it, but he may have just saved her life for the second time that day.

"Don't mention it, Granger." He meant that, too. He wasn't doing any of it for her gratitude. His reasons were his own and no one else's business. He averted his eyes and let his gaze wander around the room.

Her desk with two chairs in front for guests sat directly in front of the door. Behind the desk was a wall full of books. The wall on the far end was covered with a whiteboard and notes in four different ink colors. There were two work tables set up. One of them had two cauldrons set up with potions brewing in each. The other table had several stacks of files and notebooks scattered around it in organized chaos. There were also several stacks of books on potion ingredients stacked on the floor around the table. In the right hand corner behind the door there was a small room that looked to hold potion ingredients.

"So what is it that you do down here, anyway?" He was trying to read the notes on her whiteboard, but they didn't make any sense to him at all.

"Research and development. Right now I'm working on a new potion." She took another bite of the coffee cake, her mood improving slightly with every bite she took.

"A new potion that does what?"

His question could have been innocent enough, but her eyes narrowed anyway. Why would he care what she was working on? It shouldn't matter to him at all, one way or the other. Except it would matter to him, if he knew what it was. It would matter more to him in particular than it would to most. If she succeeded in time, she could possibly save his mother's life.

If she succeeded in time, and time was one thing Narcissa Malfoy was extremely short on at the moment.

"That's classified, I'm afraid." She followed his eyes to the whiteboard on the back wall and smiled to herself. He wouldn't get anything off of there, either. " And all of my notes are encrypted so only I can read them."

It really was for the best that no one know what she was working on. It wouldn't do to give him hope of a cure, when it really was looking like it wouldn't be in time. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she once again realized why it was so important for her to keep focused.

A timer somewhere to her left beeped, indicating that it was almost time to add her next ingredient to her potion. She jumped slightly in her seat at the sound.

"Sorry to cut this short, but that's my reminder to get back to work." She finished off the last bite of coffee cake and threw the plate into the trash bin.

Draco nodded to her in acknowledgment before standing and making his way to the door. He paused there, and turned back to look at her once more. There was something he wanted to say to her, no...needed to say to her, and this may be the last chance he ever had to say it.

"I, um..." he stuttered. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, she was standing just a few feet in front of him, watching him expectantly with those big brown eyes of hers.

"Look, Granger..." Oh, Merlin! Why was he so nervous all of a sudden? His palms were sweating! And she was just standing there, waiting for him to say whatever it was he needed to say.

He ran his hand through his hair and gave himself a silent pep talk before taking a small step closer to her and looking deep into her chocolate brown eyes.

"I just wanted to apologize to you." There. He said it. He took another deep breath and waited. She was still just standing there, expectantly.

"What are you apologizing for?" She had one eyebrow raised and her arms crossed over her chest. Behind her, the timer beeped again. She ignored it.

What was he apologizing for? That was her question? He thought it would be clear. Apparently not...or maybe it was and she was going to make him spell it out anyway. He probably deserved that after everything he had put her through in their youth.

"For every name I ever called you." He took a step closer to her. He had to make her understand that he hadn't meant any of it.

"For bullying you in school." He took another step closer. She was standing there, watching him, her eyes wide. She didn't move away, though, even when he stood less than an arm length's away.

"For standing by while my Aunt..."

In a move quicker than he thought possible, her hand shot out and covered his mouth. They stood like that for a long moment, staring into each others eyes. Slowly Draco wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her hand away from his mouth.

"I should have done something. I should have helped you that day."

His thumb began drawing small circles against the skin on her wrist.

"I just wanted you to know that I don't believe in blood purity anymore and I'm sorry for how I treated you back then."

Silence hung thick between them while he waited for her reaction, the only noise in the room was the soft bubbling of the potion and the annoying beeping of her alarm, which they both ignored completely.

Hermione stared into his silver eyes. Her heart was pounding. Warm tingles were spreading through her body from the point where his hand still held on to hers. After a long moment she finally managed to tear her eyes away from his and take a deep breath.

"Thank you for your apology, Malfoy, but it was completely unnecessary." She squeezed his hand gently and smiled at him. " I forgave you a long time ago."

On impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. With another small, shy smile she pulled her hand away from his and made her way to the timer that was still beeping like crazy. One look at her potion and she knew that it was ruined. With a glance at her office door, where Draco was still standing, watching her with his hand against his cheek and a small smile on his face, she knew it was worth it.

When her eyes met his he dropped his hand quickly, wiped the smile off his face and nodded at her before turning and walking out the door. She smiled, an honest smile for the first time all day, and set to work cleaning up the ruined potion.

* * *

Draco made his way back to his office in a slight daze. He had imagined apologizing to Hermione Granger a million times. Mostly he imagined that she would laugh at him, mock him, or tell him to go to hell. Never did he imagine that she would kiss him. Never.

Never did he imagine how hard it would be to walk away without kissing her back.

"Well?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and realized that he was back in his office. Blaise was sitting at his desk, looking at him with his eyebrows raised.

"Please tell me you finally found the balls to apologize to her already? It's been three years for Merlin's sake!" Blaise threw his hands up in frustration.

Draco surveyed the office quickly to make sure no one else was within hearing distance. When he was satisfied that no one was listening in on them, he sat down at his desk and nodded once at his partner.

"You did? And? I'm assuming she didn't hex your balls off or anything."

He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and smirking at his friend.

"Of course not. She was very...receptive." He smirked again, the very picture of cool and confident, even though his mind was still reeling.

"What is that supposed to mean? Receptive? So she didn't laugh at you or hex you or anything like that?" Blaise was trying to make light of the situation, but he knew how worried Draco had been. It was hard to put yourself out there like that, especially in front of someone that would have been considered your enemy. After years of talking about apologizing to her, he was surprised the blond had actually done it at all.

"She, uh..." He leaned forward in his chair, with his elbows on his knees so he would be closer to Blaise. He glanced around again, making sure there still wasn't anyone listening. Then he cast a muffliato just to be sure. Blaise raised his eyebrow at this, wondering what the hell could have happened that would make his friend take such measures for privacy. He mirrored Draco's stance, leaning forward to hear what the other man had to say.

"She told me she had forgiven me a long time ago. Then she kissed me."

Blaise stared at him for a long moment, not sure whether he had heard right or not. Did he say that she had kissed him? Hermione Granger?

"So much for staying away from the Weasel's girlfriend, Draco." He grinned to himself, imagining the look on Weasley's face if he ever heard about this. When he focused back on his friend, there was a cold determination glinting in his eyes.

"She won't be for much longer, Blaise. I promise you that."

**AN: So there is chapter 5. I usually don't do this, but what the hell. Chapter 6 is done and ready to post. If I can hit 75 reviews, I'll post it earlier than next weekend. Sooo...hit review and let me know what you think!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Awe! You guys are awesome. I was pleasantly surprised to wake up this morning to a total of 75 reviews. Aside from one extremely rude review from a person that did not sign in so I could respond to their comments, all the rest of them made me smile. This has been a tough weekend for me, and the smiles made my day. **

**For those of you that felt I was "holding this story hostage for reviews", that certainly wasn't my intention. I will never refuse to post a chapter until I get enough reviews. It was really intended as an incentive, not as a threat, so I apologize to those of you that took it the wrong way. From now on I will stick to the tentative posting schedule of once a week.**

**So thank you all for reading / favoriting / following and, of course, reviewing. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I even made it extra long for you all as an extra thanks. :)**

* * *

**The Journal**

**Chapter Six**

Hermione cleaned up the ruined potion, but decided not to start it over again. It was already afternoon and the potion would take ten hours to brew. Honestly, for the first time in a very long time, her mind was not on her work anymore. Instead she was thinking about the people in her life.

Draco Malfoy had surprised her more than once that day. He caught her when she fell. He brought her food, knowing that she needed it. He made her feel safe. He apologized to her. He made her smile.

She honestly couldn't remember the last time that Ron, or Harry for that matter, had done any of those things for her.

They had been staples in her life since she was twelve years old. She had always been there for them, ever since the time she had taken the blame for being attacked by a troll, which was really their fault anyway. If they hadn't made fun of her, she wouldn't have been in the bathroom crying to begin with. Since then she had saved their lives numerous times, made sure they passed their OWL's and NEWT's, and helped them both through auror training.

What had they ever done for her?

Just today they had given her a birthday luncheon. That should count for something, right? It had certainly been a surprise. Especially since her birthday had been the day before.

She could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She blinked them back quickly and shook the thoughts out of her head. No good could come from this line of thinking. She forced herself to focus on her work, which she did. For a little while. Then those traitorous thoughts would start to creep back in.

They went in together for a gift for her, and decided to get her a ticket to a Quidditch match. Quidditch? Really? She hates Quidditch. She always has. She probably always will. You would think her best friend and her boyfriend would know that about her.

_They were probably already planning on going and someone canceled, leaving them with an extra ticket._

That thought made her stop dead in her tracks. It was obvious that they hadn't put any thought into what she might actually want as a gift, but was it possible that the gift they gave her was only by default? Because someone else had turned it down?

Her thoughts were a jumbled mess. Somehow in the midst of the chaos in her mind she decided she needed some answers and they couldn't wait any longer. A quick look at the clock showed that it was nearing three o'clock. Harry and Ron should both still be in the Auror office. She made sure her remaining potion was stable then she left her lab, making sure to lock and ward the door behind her as she left.

She stepped off the lift on the fourth floor. The floor was set up as one large room in the center with offices along the walls for department heads. The MLE officers were on the right side of the room, while Aurors were set up on the left side of the room. Each Auror had his or her own desk which were clustered together in teams. Harry and Ron were both sitting at their desks along with Luna and Theodore Nott. There were other people scattered throughout the room working or talking. This late in the afternoon on a Wednesday, most of them were winding down and getting ready to go home. Most of them paid the brunette witch no attention whatsoever. There were a few, though, that tracked her progress across the room and idly wondered what she was up to. It was rare for her to visit the department at all.

"Ron. Harry. I need to speak to the two of you." She tried to keep her voice down. Noises carried in the bullpen and you never knew who was listening.

"'Mione! Did you change your mind about the game?" Ron asked her before she could say anything else. The tone of his voice caught her attention more than the words did. He was questioning her, but he didn't sound like he was hopeful. In fact, he sounded like he really didn't want her to change her mind about the game at all.

"No. I haven't."

She could practically see the relief on his face and his shoulders sagged as he relaxed in his seat.

Unbelievable. She almost felt like she had been slapped in the face.

_They invited you as a formality. They didn't really want you there to begin with._

And wasn't that the crux of the problem? They didn't really want her. They had ended up with her as a friend by default. They had kept her around because they needed her to survive the war. Then they didn't really know how to get rid of her, so they kept her around out of pity.

She didn't need their pity.

"I just need to talk to you. Alone." She glanced around. More people were watching her.

"It's alright. We're all friends here. Say what you need to say." Ron was only half paying attention to her. The rest of his attention was on the report he was filling out. Luna was staring into space. Theo was looking past her at someone on the other side of the room. And Harry was twirling a bottle cap on the table.

She swallowed thickly. Fine. If he wanted this aired in front of all his colleagues, she could play that game.

"Alright then. I'm breaking up with you, Ron." She slipped his Gryfindor ring off her finger and placed it on the table in front of him, right in the middle of the report he was working on. "Enjoy your Quidditch match."

Harry, Theo and Luna all focused their attention on her then. Ron stopped writing and stared at the ring, completely at a loss for words.

She waited a long moment, but when she got no other response she turned to leave. She noticed that most of the people at the desks closest to Ron's had stopped what they were doing and were staring at her.

She had taken several steps away before Ron stopped her.

"Why?" It sounded like a simple question. It really wasn't.

"A lot of reasons, Ron. We can talk about it later, in private, if you want." She turned around and saw that he had stood from the table. His face was turning red now, out of anger or embarrassment, she wasn't sure which.

"Is this because of Malfoy?"

Her eyebrows raised in response to his question and she tried to figure out what in the hell he was talking about. She couldn't come up with any reason why she would be breaking up with Ron that would have to do with Malfoy of all people.

"What?"

People all around the room had stopped what they were doing now and had moved closer to hear what was going on. Even Malfoy himself, and Blaise, had joined the circle of people surrounding the couple. Or the ex-couple.

"You heard me, 'Mione. He doesn't really want you, you know? He's just using you to get to me."

Her eyes widened and several gasps could be heard around the room at his accusation. Several sets of eyes turned to the blond wizard to see his reaction. Being a Malfoy, though, he had been trained from a young age to never show his emotions. Aside from a raised eyebrow at the accusation, he didn't show the surprise or outrage he was feeling.

"Thank you, Ron. I'm well aware that Malfoy doesn't want me." She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Where would you even get a notion as ridiculous as that? This has nothing to do with Malfoy, or with anyone else for that matter."

Ron's face was now a darker shade of red than his hair. Harry was behind him, trying to convince him to walk away.

"Why, 'Mione? Why now? Why today?"

She ran both her hands through her hair and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. She really hadn't planned on doing this when she walked into the Auror department. She hadn't planned on calling him out in front of all his co-workers. She hadn't intended to embarrass him in this fashion. She could see that there was no way out of it now, though. She was going to have to finish it off.

"You want to know why, Ron? Okay. I'll tell you why." Her voice was low. Her eyes were narrowed. Her hands were curled into fists at her side. "Because today was the last straw."

She took two steps closer to him, so they were standing mere feet away from each other. Anyone close enough to her could feel the static electricity of her magic coming off of her in waves as she allowed her anger and hurt to roll through her.

"Because my birthday was yesterday, not today. Because I hate quidditch and you know that, but you didn't get me a gift so you figured a ticket to the match would work because I would never actually use it. Tell me, Ron, who would have been unlucky enough to lose their seat tonight if by some miracle I had agreed to go?"

The color drained out of his face, which was all the confirmation she needed. Did he really think she wouldn't figure it out?

"See! You didn't even plan for that contingency, did you? So you make a big deal about celebrating my birthday...late...and didn't even get me a gift. Who, exactly, were you trying to impress? Because it sure as hell wasn't me!"

"But...but I got you a cake too!" He sputtered out his reply.

She narrowed her eyes again and somewhere to her right she heard someone laugh.

"Hmm. Strawberry shortcake. One of your Mum's specialties, and your favorite if I remember right."

His eyebrow wrinkled in confusion.

"So what? I got it for you. Didn't you like it?"

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and counted to ten in her head. It wouldn't do to hex him right now. To many witnesses. Just get through this, she told herself.

"I didn't eat it. I gave the last two pieces to Malfoy and Zabini."

"You did what? Why would you do that? That was for you, 'Mione!" He managed to look outraged and indignant at the same time. He was probably more upset that she gave the leftover cake to Slytherins rather than letting him eat it himself.

"Okay, seriously? Do you really not know? We've been friends for nearly ten years!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "This, Ronald! This is why I'm breaking up with you."

She turned on her heel and pushed through the crowd to leave the department. Ron and Harry stood and watched her go, both trying to figure out what had just happened.

"Has she gone completely mental?"

"Maybe she hit her head when she fell earlier?"

There was another sharp bark of laughter and both Harry and Ron turned to see who it was. Malfoy was staring at the two with a rather large smirk plastered to his face.

"You know, it's amazing, isn't it? I mean with friends like you two, who would ever need enemies?"

"What do you know about it, Malfoy?" Ron's face was turning red again as he was reminded that there were many witnesses to that little transaction.

"Ignore him, Ron. He doesn't know anything. 'Mione wouldn't have said anything to him about it." Harry tried to diffuse the situation, but there was a knowing glint in Malfoy's eyes that he didn't like.

"She didn't have to tell me anything, you dolts. I merely pay attention. Apparently more than either one of you do." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against an empty desk. His posture was relaxed and conceited, the posture of someone that knows they are right and above reproach.

Everyone had shifted their focus to Harry, Ron and Draco. No one noticed Hermione walk back over to the crowd. No one saw her against the wall, listening intently.

"Alright, Malfoy. I'll bite. What the hell have you observed that we haven't?" His eyes were narrowed and it was obvious that he thought it was a ridiculous notion that Draco Malfoy might know more about his friend than he did.

"Quite a bit, I would imagine. For the purpose of this conversation, though, it might interest you to know that your friend, Potter, and your ex-girlfriend, Weasley," he smirked a little bit wider at this latest revelation. "Is deathly allergic to strawberries."

Ron and Harry shared a look. That was absolutely ridiculous. Obviously if she had an allergy to strawberries she would have told them about it. Malfoy had to be full of shit. It was the only possible explanation.

"He's right, you know." Luna had returned to her reports since she really didn't care that the guys were arguing with Malfoy again, but now she looked up and stared at some distant point across the room. "She nearly died in third year when Ginny mixed up their smoothies. I had forgotten all about that."

She continued to stare into space for a moment before nodding her head and returning to her reports. Harry and Ron both stared at her incredulously. It was obvious that neither one of them knew what she was talking about.

"Hey, what's going on? Are you guys ready to go?" Ginny pushed her way through the small crowd. When everyone realized how late it had gotten the crowd dispersed pretty quickly as everyone wanted to finish their work and leave for the day.

"Yeah. Just give us a minute to put this stuff away." Harry smiled at his girlfriend and returned to his desk. Ron also moved quickly to his desk to put the rest of his reports away and get ready to leave.

"Aren't you going to apologize to Hermione?" Luna looked up from her reports again, her wide eyes focused on Ron as he rushed to get ready to leave.

"Nah. I'll catch up with her tomorrow and work it out. We need to go."

"Wait. What do you need to apologize to Hermione for? What did you do?" Ginny looked back and forth from Ron to Harry, but neither of them stopped what they were doing.

"I didn't do anything! She's pissed because she didn't like the cake at lunch. She's just PMS'ing or something. It's no big deal. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

Draco, who was still standing fairly close by, rolled his eyes and turned to walk away. He wondered if the Weasel apologized to her tomorrow if she would take him back. As he turned something caught his eye and he looked back quickly. She was there, standing against the wall by the entrance to the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest, her brown eyes staring right at him. Their eyes locked and neither one of them moved for a long moment. One of the Aurors bumped into Draco's shoulder and he lost eye contact. When he looked back, she was gone.

* * *

Hermione returned home earlier than normal that night. When she had returned to her lab she couldn't concentrate, so it seemed pointless for her to even be there. Her mind was not focused on her work and if she kept trying to force it she was going to make a mistake that could be costly. So she gave up around five o'clock, normal quitting time, and went home.

Her flat was just as empty as always, but in the light of day it seemed to be even more desolate than it did at night. She sighed deeply and dropped herself down on the couch. What the hell was she supposed to do with herself now?

She started with a hot shower. As she stood there with the steamy water rolling off of her, she let her mind wander through the events of the day. Most of her thoughts had centered around Ron and how infuriating he was. She replayed their argument in the Auror department and remembered that he had asked her if she was breaking up with him because of Malfoy. She still had no idea why he would even think that. Her interactions with Malfoy in the last three years had been limited to today. And though he had been much different than he ever was in school, he had done nothing to indicate that he had any particular interest in her. Why would Ron have assumed that Malfoy had made any kind of a move on her?

She remembered the way his arms felt around her waist, and how safe she had felt there. She remembered his apology and the way he had held onto her hand. She found herself rubbing her thumb over the same spot he had held earlier and remembered the warm tingles that had exploded from his touch. She remembered the brief kiss she had placed on his cheek and the look of bewilderment on his face afterward. Lastly, she remembered the intensity when their eyes had locked in the bullpen. He knew about her allergy. None of her friends had remembered, but he had known.

She shook her head to clear the memories. So they had a moment or two. It was no big deal. And it certainly didn't mean that he had any intentions towards her. She was not, nor would she ever be, on the same playing field as Draco Malfoy.

She finished rinsing her hair out and stepped out of the shower. She took her time drying off and getting dressed. She put on a comfortable pair of jeans and a green v-neck long sleeved shirt. Brown boots finished off the ensemble. Her hair dried in soft curls and hung loosely down her back. She looked at herself in the mirror and smiled at what she saw. She would never describe herself as beautiful, but she thought she was at least pretty. The green color brought out the gold flecks in her eyes and it highlighted her creamy skin tone. The jeans fit her soft curves perfectly. She wasn't a size two by any means, but she liked her body just the way it was. She applied a small amount of lip gloss and some mascara. Not to much, just enough to highlight her eyes a little bit. When she was satisfied with the way she looked, she turned around and picked up the keys to her flat. She had no intention of staying at home alone tonight. Her favorite pizza joint was calling her name.

As she picked up her keys, she noticed the journal was glowing. She hesitated before picking it up. Chances were her mystery man had seen at least part of what happened that day, and surely he had heard the rest of it. She wasn't sure she really wanted to talk about it. She walked away once and made it all the way to the door, with her hand on the doorknob, before she turned back around. Her curious nature really was going to get her in trouble one of these days.

"_Well, today was an interesting day, don't you think?_"

Despite herself, she laughed.

"_Interesting is putting it mildly."_

Her stomach growled to remind her that the only thing she had eaten all day was a piece of coffee cake and an apple.

"_You're home early."_

She looked at the clock and saw that it was only six o'clock. She was home early, compared to normal.

"_Yes, well. I couldn't focus on my work after everything that happened. I needed a break." _

She had found herself getting more and more comfortable with what she divulged to her mystery man. Rather than guarding most of her thoughts as she had in the beginning, she found herself writing what she thought or felt.

"_Understandable. You work too hard anyway."_

"_Maybe. Maybe not. I should be working now. People are counting on me, and I'm letting my personal life get in the way of my work." _She sighed. Maybe she should just go back to the lab?

"_No one will begrudge you a few hours off, I'm sure."_

Her thoughts instantly went to Draco. She pictured him sitting by his mother's bedside, knowing she only had another week or two to live. Would he be upset that she wasn't working tonight, when those three or four hours could be the difference between his mother living or dying?

"_I'm not so sure about that. Regardless, I just can't focus on potion ingredients right now. To much going on in my mind. So I'm going to give myself a break, go to Sal's and get some pepperoni and bacon pizza and a cold beer, and try to forget about the disaster that was today." _

"_I love Sal's. They have the best bread sticks. Now you've got me craving one of their pizzas. Pepperoni, mushroom and onion sounds pretty good to me."_

She stared at the words for a long moment. Sal's Pizza and Suds was a small pizzeria and sports bar in Muggle London, not far from her flat. She had planned on going there for dinner before she even opened the journal. It might be nice to meet someone there, rather than eating alone or getting take out. She considered her words long and hard before writing them on the parchment and watching them disappear.

"_Would you care to join me?"_

She held her breath as she waited for his reply. She wanted to know who she was talking to every evening, but she almost didn't want to know either. There was something about the mystery of it all that intrigued her. He had asked her to give him a chance without the connotations of his past, and so she hadn't put much thought into who she was actually talking to every night. There was something about the anonymity of it that relaxed her.

"_As much as I would truly love to, it's not a great idea. Especially not tonight."_

She had known better. He didn't even want her to know who he was, why would he want to have dinner with her? Disappointment and rejection washed through her. She was angry with herself for daring to hope.

Before she could respond, more words appeared in the book.

"_The two of us having dinner together would be headline news any time, but especially so tonight. You will just have to trust me on this. Sal's is muggle, but it's also frequented by many wizards. The headline in tomorrow's Prophet would be something like 'War Heroine dating former enemy? Only hours after publicly breaking off her long time relationship with friend and fellow war hero, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger was seen having dinner with a former enemy. What's the real story behind the sudden breakup? Our sources say it was some kind of disagreement over a birthday celebration, but perhaps Mr. Weasley was close to the mark when he suggested another wizard was involved?'"_

Her eyes widened as she read his words. Immediately she could picture the Prophet, with this as the front page cover story.

"_Oh Merlin. You're right. The press would have a field day. Can you imagine the look on Ron's face when he opened the paper? It would be priceless."_

She laughed to herself. His face would turn bright red and steam would come out of his ears. Not literally, of course. As funny as that might be, she still hated being in the spotlight. And she wouldn't actually be able to see Ron have his meltdown, so it would definitely not be worth it.

"_Maybe some other time then." _She knew he was right about the headlines. Well, she assumed he was right. It was funny, when she read his theoretical newspaper article, she could picture them together at Sal's, sitting in a booth across from each other, talking and laughing with each other. She couldn't see his face but she felt like she knew him. It was very strange indeed.

"_I would like that. Can I ask you a question?"_

Hermione looked at his message, then looked at the clock. It wasn't late, but she was starving. Suddenly the idea of going out alone didn't really sit well with her. She would much rather stay in and talk with him.

"_Ask away."_ She set the journal down and pulled out her cell phone. The best thing about Sal's is that they deliver. She called and ordered her pizza and a small order of bread sticks. When she had her order placed, she saw that he had sent her another message.

"_It probably isn't any of my business, but why have you stayed with the Weasel this long? Don't get me wrong, breaking up with him today was brilliant, but why not years ago?"_

She thought about her answer for a long moment. She knew why she hadn't broken up with Ron long ago. Because Ron and Harry were the only friends she ever had. Because Ron's family was the only family she had. Because she would truly be alone without them.

"_I wish I knew if I could trust you. Unfortunately, what you're asking is deeply personal, and the answer, in the wrong hands, could be used as a weapon."_

She put the book down on the couch next to her and looked around her living room. Her entire living area was a disaster. Ron and Harry had promised to come by weeks ago and help her unpack, but they never had made it.

"_You're right. Knowledge is power. I will never hurt you. Hopefully I will earn your trust over time."_

There was a knock on her door, so she put the book down to get the pizza from the delivery guy. She set the pizza on the kitchen table and pulled out a slice immediately. She couldn't believe how hungry she was.

It was several minutes and two slices of pizza later before she opened the journal back up.

"_People don't like me very much." _It was something she had come to terms with years ago, though she still didn't understand why.

"_Why would you say that?"_

"_Because it's true. When I found out I was a witch, it was great. I thought, finally, this is the reason why I don't fit in, because I'm not like normal people. I'm special, a witch. Then I show up at Hogwarts and I start school, and I realize that I didn't fit in there either. It wasn't just because of my blood status, either. Being muggle-born certainly didn't help matters, but it was more than that. It's just me._

_People don't like me. _

_Ron doesn't really like me either. I know that. He's described me as a nightmare before, you know?"_

She wasn't sure at all what made her tell him those things. It seemed almost cathartic to write down her thoughts. He didn't respond to her, and she didn't wait before continuing on.

"_Anyway, I stayed because I don't think I was ready to be alone yet."_

She nodded to herself before eating another slice of pizza. That was exactly it. She knew she would never find anyone else that would tolerate her, it was asking way to much to find someone who actually wanted to be with her. So without Ron she knew she would be alone.

"_And now?"_

She looked around her flat one more time and sighed deeply.

"_Now, I realize that it doesn't really matter. I've always been alone."_

Hermione closed the journal and laid it down on the table. Tears were threatening to fall, but she wouldn't let them. She could do this. She didn't need people in her life anyway. All they did was criticize her and slow her down. She needed to focus on her work. And she needed to focus on herself. She was going to start right then.

Looking around her flat she came to a decision. She needed to stop waiting for people to help her. She needed to start helping herself. She left the journal on the table and ignored the blue light on the front. With a flick of her wand music filled the air. Upbeat music that she could sing along with. She started in the living room and piece by piece, box by box, she unpacked her things and put them away. It took several hours, and it was well after midnight before she finished.

She looked around her flat and smiled to herself. Everything was put away. No more boxes sat open or stacked along the walls. There were pictures and knick knacks from her life decorating the walls. Her little flat finally felt like a home.

Before she lay down in bed, she checked the journal one more time and read his last message.

"_You aren't alone. I'm here."_

* * *

**AN: I hope you all liked this chapter. Feel free to leave me a review to let me know what you thought. Or don't. No pressure. ;)**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: I know...it's been longer than a week since my last update. Sorry about that! Life gets in the way sometimes, you know? Work exploded (not literally!) and I went on vacation and left my laptop at home. I'm hoping to get another chapter up this weekend to make up for it. Don't hold me to that, though. **

**Anyway...I hope you all like this chapter. I've re-written it like five times. Warning – there is violence in this chapter. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Seven**

Thursday morning Hermione woke bright and early. She was relaxed, well rested and headache free. She took her time getting ready and eating breakfast, and still arrived at work a half an hour early. She started brewing her pain relieving potion again, the same one that had been ruined the day before, then she got right to work reading through more books on obscure potion ingredients.

At lunch time, she went to the cafeteria and bought her lunch. Then she stood there for a long moment contemplating her dilemma. She didn't want to sit with Ron, but she didn't have any other friends at the Ministry. With a small sigh, she maneuvered herself towards an empty table along the back wall. As she normally did, she had the last book she had been reading with her. She ate her chicken salad sandwich while she read. Although she had been afraid it would be awkward to eat alone, she found that she actually liked it. She was able to focus on what she was reading, and she had the whole table to herself.

She was oblivious to the whispers, the stares, and the rumors that were flying rampant around the room. She didn't even notice when the normal buzz of conversation dropped off and the cafeteria went nearly silent as everyone except for her watched Ron cross the room and sit down at her table.

"Look 'Mione. I'm sorry, okay? Come sit with us now. People are staring."

She looked up from her book and glanced around the room. She hated attention. She hated people staring at her. She wasn't going to go sit at their table, though. She couldn't.

"I'm fine here, thanks." She dismissed him and returned to reading her book and eating her sandwich.

He stared at her for a long moment before growling out something about her being a stubborn witch and stalking back to his table. She breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone and finished her lunch in silence.

That was Ron's first attempt at apologizing to her, but it wasn't his last. Later that afternoon she received a bouquet of flowers, red roses. She rolled her eyes at the gesture. She could hear the conversation in her mind. Harry would have told Ron that he had to try harder to apologize. Ron would have said that he already said he was sorry, what else did she want? Harry would have rolled his eyes and said something like "I don't know, send her flowers or something. Don't girls like it when you send them flowers?"

She threw them in the trash bin and kept working.

When she got home late that night, there was an owl waiting for her. She opened the letter with trepidation. There was another note declaring his apologies, and there was a copy of a dinner reservation for Friday night at _Le Magick_. Well fuck. She had forgotten about their reservations. _Le Magick _was only the most expensive, most exclusive restaurant in wizarding London. You had to be on a very specific list of people to warrant reservations. Even with the names of Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, they had to wait over three weeks for a table.

She scribbled a note back to him. "_Take someone else, Ronald. I'm not going. I have to work." _

She hadn't wanted to eat there anyway. That had been all Ron's idea. He loved being in the spotlight, and showing up at _Le Magick_ almost guaranteed a picture in the Prophet.

On Friday it was more of the same. Harry and Ron both tried to get her to sit with them at lunch, but she refused. There were more flowers delivered to her in the afternoon. They ended up in the trash as well.

She worked late again, and took a few volumes home to look through over the weekend. It was times like these she really wished the wizarding world was more technology driven like the muggle world. She could have been done weeks ago if she had been able to put her requirements into a search engine and let the computer do the work for her.

She took her shower and dressed for bed in a pair of black shorts and a pale blue tank top. She was pulling her blankets back when a noise from the living room startled her. Her floo alarm started to go off, telling her that someone was trying to get through that didn't have access.

She ran into the living room and wasn't surprised to see Ron's face floating in the fireplace.

"'Mione! Why can't I get through? Unblock your floo."

She stared at the floating face for a long moment before crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

"No. We have nothing to talk about."

His eyes widened almost comically wide and he sputtered.

"Yes, we need to talk. Come on 'Mione. Please! I'm sorry."

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"What exactly are you sorry for, Ronald?"

"Let me through so we can talk about this face to face." She could hear the irritation building in his voice.

"I don't think so. This is fine with me." She couldn't put her finger on it exactly, but she really didn't want to be alone with him. Maybe because of what had happened the last time he had been in her flat? A cold chill ran down her spine when she remembered. It had only been a few days ago.

"Dammit. You always have to do everything the hard way, don't you?" He growled. Then his head disappeared from the fireplace.

She stared at the spot where he had been only a moment ago. A cold chill went down her spine as she felt it.  
Someone was probing at her wards. Before she had time to react, she felt her wards fall and she heard the pop of apparition.

"Have you forgotten that my specialty with the Auror department is breaking wards?"

She stepped away from him on reflex. This couldn't be happening.

"So what is it that you're sorry for?" It was just Ron, she told herself. He just wants to talk. Keep the conversation going and get him out of here as quickly as possible.

"The cake, obviously. I didn't know that you don't like strawberries." He was angry. His voice was rising and his face was turning red.

Her sense of self-preservation told her not to provoke him, let him apologize and get him out of her flat. His ignorance irritated her, though, and try as she may she couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"I don't like them because if I eat them they will kill me." She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.

"Right. Whatever. I didn't know, okay? So I'm sorry."

She shook her head. It was completely unbelievable. How could she make him understand that she had broken up with him over more than just a stupid cake?

"Look Ron, it's not just that. You and I don't work. You don't know anything about me."

"That's not true." He sat down in the chair and regarded her from across the room. "I know everything about you."

She shook her head yet again. He didn't even know she was allergic to strawberries for Merlin's sake! How could he possibly think he knew everything about her?

"Fine. Tell me, Ron, what is my job?"

He looked confused for a moment before he answered, "You make potions for the Ministry?" He said it kind of slow and it sounded like a question at the end.

"See! You don't even know what I do all day! What do you know about me?"

Ron narrowed his eyes. This was not going as planned. She was supposed to have apologized to him by now so everything could go back to the way it was supposed to be.

"I know enough, Hermione. I know you fell in love with me in fourth year. I know no one else even looked twice at you. I know everyone expected you to end up with Harry, but guess what? You chose me. You chose me instead of him. You are mine, Hermione. That's all I need to know."

His words shocked her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened her eyes he had leaned back in his chair and had a smug look on his face.

"I'm making another choice now, Ron. I'd like you to leave now, and don't come back."

The smug look disappeared quickly and his face turned red in anger once again.

"Dammit Hermione. Why are you being so difficult about this? We are meant to be together. Everyone knows that." He stood up and began pacing back and forth. His anger was starting to make her nervous. She had seen him angry before, and she knew that he had a nasty temper. Generally she tried not to trigger that temper if she could help it, and it had never been aimed directly at her.

"Listen to yourself, Ron. We aren't meant to be together. It isn't written in the stars or whatever. You don't even want to be with me. Why would you want to spend your life with someone that you don't want to be with when you could find someone that will make you happy?"

He stopped pacing long enough to glare at her. The look in his eyes actually scared her. It was a wild, crazy look that had her wishing she had her wand in hand.

"What's this really about, 'Mione?" He stalked across the room and stopped mere inches away from her. She didn't back down from him, refusing to be intimidated in her own home. "Are you cheating on me? Is that it? Are you fucking Malfoy behind my back?"

"No! What the fuck is your obsession with Draco Malfoy? Why would you even think that?" Anger coursed through her at his accusation.

"He had his arms around you…in the middle of the Ministry…where everyone could see!" He was only inches away from her, yelling loudly. She flinched, but stood her ground against him.

"I passed out! Would you rather he let me fall and hit my head on a table or something? I could have been really hurt if he hadn't caught me!" She matched his tone, her own anger drowning out the voice in her mind that was telling her to keep it calm and end the conversation quickly.

"You let him fucking touch you, Hermione!" He took a step forward, forcing her to step backwards until her back was against the wall. "You are mine. No one fucking touches you but me!"

Her eyes widened at his words. She'd never heard him so possessive before. It wasn't romantic. It was terrifying.

"I am not _yours_. You really need to understand this. I would rather be alone for the rest of my life, Ronald, than be with you."

She didn't see it coming. Her head snapped to the side as he backhanded her across her face. She didn't have time to react before both of his hands grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the wall. Her breath caught in her throat as pain and fear spread through her body.

"You ungrateful bitch." His hands gripped her bare shoulders tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh. He leaned in close enough that she could feel his breath on the side of her face. "You. Are. Mine. You need to remember that." He dipped his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder, biting her hard enough to draw blood.

She screamed out as a sharp pain flared through her shoulder. A lesser witch might have frozen in fear, but she was no ordinary witch. She was Hermione Granger. She grew up in a war, faced off against Death Eaters, and helped to defeat Voldemort himself.

She didn't have time to think about what was happening before her instincts kicked in. In one smooth movement she dropped her center of gravity, pushed up on his left elbow and down on his right elbow, and slid quickly to her right, effectively escaping his hold and throwing him off balance. By the time he had recovered and turned to find her, she had already crossed the room and summoned her wand, which flew into her outstretched hand.

Ron found himself staring down the length of her wand.

"Get. Out." Her words were growled through gritted teeth. The anger seething through her body was just starting to catch up with the adrenalin in her system. Her wand hand was itching to throw a curse or two his way.

"This isn't over, 'Mione." He had seen Hermione duel enough to know that he would be defeated before he even pulled his wand. He backed away from her slowly. She didn't drop her wand until long after the crack of apparition signaled his departure. She doubled the wards on her flat, adding a few different wards that she had learned during the war.

Her hands were shaking. Hell, her whole body was shaking as she sank down into her chair. What the hell had just happened? She had fought with Ron before. Everyone knew they argued about everything. But this was different. This wasn't a disagreement over which potion worked better or something stupid like that. This was so much more. He hit her. Never had he hurt her before. Not physically at least.

She was still shaking and it took her a long moment to figure out that she was shaking from fear as well as anger.

He had broken through her wards. He had hit her. He had hurt her.

He had said it wasn't over. What did that mean? What lengths would he go to? What could she do to stop him? To make him understand that it was over?

She thought about going to Harry, telling him what happened. Maybe he could talk some sense into Ron? Would he believe her, though? Any time she had ever had a spat with Ron, Harry had always taken his side over hers. Why would this be any different? It wouldn't be. She knew that. Whatever happened with Ron, it was her problem alone. She wouldn't find any help from Harry.

In addition to beefing up her wards, she also closed off her floo network completely and set alarms to go off if anyone started tampering with her wards. She had lived in fear before, on the run, hunted. It wasn't something she ever wanted to do again, but it was something she probably would never forget. There were a few simple rules that they had lived by in those long months. Always set up wards and alarms. Never stay in one place to long. Never return to the same place twice. Always be ready to leave at a moments notice.

She hadn't decided what she was going to do yet, but she knew she had to follow those rules. Her mind had detected a threat and had gone into survival mode. Before she even realized what she was doing, she found herself packing her beaded bag. The same one with the undetectable extension charm that she had carried during the war. Clothes. Food. All of her research. A tent. And her journal.

She stared at the journal for a long moment before packing it. She knew she couldn't go to Harry, or any of her other friends. They would never believe that Ron had hurt her, even with the evidence staring them in the face. So who do you turn to when you can't trust your friends? If she couldn't trust her friends, what about her enemies? Or former enemies, as the case may be.

The clock chimed and she jumped at the sound. Move first, look for an ally second. She tossed the journal into the bag, tucked it down into her boot, and left her flat. She didn't apparate out. She walked right out the front door, down the steps, and onto the streets of muggle London.

It was late and the streets were nearly deserted. She stuck to the shadows when possible and avoided anyone she saw out and about. She didn't have a destination in mind, she was just trying to get as far away from her flat as she could on foot. She walked for over an hour before she started looking for somewhere to stay. It was another twenty minutes before she came across a hotel. She paid for a room and ignored the look the employee gave her as she handed her the key. It wasn't until she got into her room and caught sight of herself in the mirror that she understood that look. There was a dark purple bruise from her ear to her chin.

She set up wards around the room, and alarms to warn her if anyone came too close. Then she collapsed on the bed. She tried to sleep, really she did. Despite how tired her body was, her mind just wouldn't let her. Every noise woke her. By morning she was exhausted.

She took a shower and got dressed in comfortable jeans, a white tank top with a brown sweater over top, and brown boots. She ordered breakfast from the hotel restaurant and sat in her room to eat. While she was eating, she opened the journal. There was already a message waiting for her.

"_It's a beautiful Saturday. Are you working today?"_

She contemplated her response for a long moment. This was a big decision. By asking for his help, she was trusting him completely. She didn't know who he was. She didn't know if he had ulterior motives for talking to her. She hadn't even allowed herself to really contemplate either question. She had let herself enjoy their conversations. She had pictured herself meeting him. She had dreamed of him numerous times. When she let herself think about it, she knew who she wanted him to be.

She stared out the window, watching the muggles below go about their daily business. His innocent question weighed heavily on her mind. No, she wasn't going to work. She would be much to easy to find there. Ron would know to look at the Ministry for her. She had to stay somewhere safe, somewhere that he wouldn't look for her.

The muggle world was a good option. Ron was only a little familiar with muggles. He wouldn't think to look for her in a hotel. She didn't want to be too confident in that assumption, though. She needed something better. A safer option. Preferably an unplottable option.

She looked at the open journal one more time. She was going to need help. She had no doubt about that. She wasn't sure how much she could really trust her mystery man, though. Would he help her? What kind of help could he give her? What kind of help did she need?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If she were a muggle, she would go to the police. She wasn't a muggle, though. She was a witch, and in the wizarding world they didn't have police, they had the MLE.

She couldn't just go to anyone in the MLE. Oliver Wood, for example, was a friend to both Ron and Harry. She needed someone that would actually believe her.

She ran her hands through her hair as she suddenly realized who she needed to contact. With another shaky breath she picked up her quill and opened the journal.

"_This will probably sound like an odd request, but I need to ask for a favor."_

His response took only a moment to come through. She could almost picture him sitting at a table eating breakfast the same as she was, with the journal sitting on the table, waiting for her to respond.

"_That sounds rather ominous. I don't get the feeling that Hermione Granger asks favors of just anyone."_

She couldn't decide if she was amused or irritated by his reply. He was right, she didn't ask for favors. Ever.

Okay...hardly ever. There is obviously a first time for everything.

"_I don't, but desperate times call for desperate measures." _Not that she was desperate. She wasn't. Not yet anyway.

"_In that case, what can I do for you?"_

She licked her lips. Her hand hesitated over the parchment. Once she asked, there was no taking it back. Once she asked, she was committed. Was it really what she wanted to do? Maybe not, but she knew it was what she needed to do.

"_I need to get a message to MLE agents Malfoy and Zabini."_

She didn't close the journal. She stared at the blank parchment and held her breath until his response came through.

"_You were right, that is indeed an unusual request. What is the message?"_

She took another deep breath. It crossed her mind, briefly, that she could actually be talking to one or the other of them. That would make it supremely easy for him to pass along the message, wouldn't it?

"_You can't tell anyone else. Just them."_

She was started to second guess her actions. What if he wasn't who she thought he was? What if he was actually someone she knew that was just fucking with her? An image of Neville sitting next to his Gran laughing at her suddenly popped into her mind. Could it be Neville? Pretending to be someone else? She felt her stomach drop suddenly. Oh Merlin.

"_You have my word. I'm getting more than a little worried here. Are you okay?"_

She swallowed thickly. It's not Neville. It couldn't possibly be Neville.

"_Can you have them meet me? 12:30 at Sal's. Tell them to sit in the back booth. I'll approach them and ask them each a simple question only they would know the answer to."_

She chewed on her lip nervously as she waited for his response. Again, she didn't have to wait long.

"_I'll give them the message. Are you okay?"_

She felt moisture collecting in her eyes as she read his repeated question. Was she okay? No, no she wasn't. Not even close.

**AN: So...? Leave me a review and let me know your thoughts. And thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: I wasn't sure I'd be able to get this chapter done for this weekend or not. I am really excited about this chapter, though, and I hope you all like it. I won't be able to write any this weekend, so it'll be another week before my next update. (Sorry!) **

**Your reviews blow me away. Thank you all for reading / favoriting / following and of course reviewing. I get an adrenalin rush every time I open my inbox and see new review notifications. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Eight**

Hermione spent the next hour and a half painstakingly straightening her hair. It took a lot of hair potion and a lot of patience, but in the end she had to admit it had been worth it. No one would be looking for a Hermione Granger with straight hair. She pulled it in front of her ear on one side, letting it hang like a curtain over her face. This served to further disguise her, as well as to hide the purple blemish on the side of her face. She topped off the look with large rimmed sunglasses.

She appraised her image in the mirror before she left the room. She was wearing a dark brown sweater that hung loosely past her waist, jeans that fit snugly against her hips, and brown boots that covered her jeans to just below her knees. Her hair hung straight, over her shoulder on one side but covering her face on the other, and the sunglasses covered her eyes and her facial bone structure. No one would know it was her unless they were really paying attention.

Satisfied with the look, she left the hotel and flagged down a cab. Ten minutes later she was stepping through the doors of her favorite muggle establishment, Sal's. Even though it was just past noon, it was still dark inside the pub. She didn't remove the sunglasses, though. Draco Malfoy's white hair stood out anywhere, but in the dark pub it nearly glowed.

Her eyes darted around the room, assessing the other customers to see if any of them could be a threat to her. Aside from Malfoy and Zabini in the back booth, she didn't see anyone that she recognized. They had both looked at her when she walked in, but had dismissed her as someone else and went back to eating the pizza on the table in front of them.

She ignored the waitress that tried to offer her a table. She side-stepped the muggle that was playing pool and almost backed into her as he took his next shot. She fought down the nerves that told her to turn around and walk away. She took one step after another and found herself standing next to their table. She glanced around quickly before sliding gracefully into the booth.

"Well, hello beautiful. Please, take a seat."

Her eyebrow arched in surprise, even though they couldn't see it behind her sunglasses. Zabini was smiling at her with a very charming smile and mischievous glint in his eye. Malfoy seemed to be ignoring her and watching the door as he absently chewed on a piece of pizza. She watched his jaw as it moved up and down, his lips closed, his gray eyes focused on the door, but still somehow watching her. He swallowed the food a moment later and reached for his glass of water. It was after he had taken a long drink and set the glass back on the table that he turned his eyes towards her.

"I don't like the hair. It doesn't suit you. And it makes me wonder who you're trying to hide from." He tried to look into her eyes, but all he could see through the sunglasses she wore was a faint outline.

"The last thing I need is my picture on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow morning, especially sitting next to the two of you." She paused briefly and cast a casual glance around the room before continuing. "Malfoy, a few days ago you brought something to my lab at the Ministry. What did you bring?" She spoke in a soft voice, a voice that wouldn't carry to the table behind them, yet the men sitting across from her could hear her clearly.

"I brought you food. An apple and a piece of coffee cake. You ate the coffee cake and left the apple for later." He watched her carefully, wondering why, exactly, she was so jumpy. Obviously something had happened for her to come to them, but he couldn't imagine what it could be.

"Zabini. We don't know each other well. In all of our years at Hogwarts, I can only recall ever talking to you one time. It was in fourth year. Do you remember that?"

Blaise nodded at her to continue. He remembered that conversation. He didn't think he'd ever forget it. He was not, however, comfortable discussing said conversation in front of Draco.

"Good. Where were we at the time?" She asked it casually, but she was ready to move if he didn't know the correct answer.

"We were in the courtyard, near the bridge."

She relaxed almost instantly, satisfied that the men sitting across from her were in fact Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini. The irony of it didn't escape her notice. There was a time when sitting in this position would not have relaxed her at all. Times had changed, though. She couldn't trust the people she used to trust anymore.

"First of all, I want to thank you both for meeting me on such short notice. I know we aren't friends and you had no obligation to show up, so thank you." She took her sunglasses off, being careful not to sweep her hair back, and folded them on the table in front of her.

"You're kidding, right?" Blaise smiled at her and leaned back in his seat. She seemed a little more relaxed, so he figured he could relax a bit as well. "When Hermione Granger requests your presence, you don't turn her down. It just isn't done."

She laughed. Just a little bit. She couldn't help it. He talked about her like she was the queen or something. It was absolutely ridiculous.

"Seriously, though, I was curious. We've known each other for years, but I can't imagine why you would ever come to us for help. For one thing your best friends are Potter and Weasley. For another, nearly every conversation I've ever witnessed between you and Draco ended with name calling and curses flying."

"There is a lot of truth to that statement." She turned to look at Malfoy and got caught in his gaze. "I'd like to think we're past all of that now."

She held his gaze for a long moment, only turning away once he had nodded his agreement.

"Satisfy my curiosity, then. Why are we here?" Blaise took a long drink from his glass as he waited for her to respond.

"The short version would be that I need your help." She let her eyes fall to the table. They would probably never know how hard it was for her to ask for help. It was not something she had ever had to do before. Usually people were coming to her for help, not the other way around.

"I find it interesting that out of all of your acquaintances and connections, you would choose to come to the two of us. Why not Potter? Or your boyfriend, the Weasel?"

Her head snapped up, her eyes narrowed and she glared at Blaise. She didn't notice the slightly confused look that flashed across Draco's face.

"I broke up with Ron days ago. You know that. You were both there." She glanced back and forth between them. Why did Blaise call Ron her boyfriend when he obviously knew better? And why did Malfoy look like he wanted to hit something? She found herself involuntarily cringing away from him.

"I was in Diagon Alley this morning, before I got your message to meet here. Your two buddies were in line in front of me." Blaise had his suspicions when he had overheard the conversation between Potter and Weasley that morning. Watching Hermione's reaction just confirmed that his suspicions had been correct. "I might have overheard what the Weasel was telling Potter."

The color drained from her face and her eyes closed. She dropped her head into her hands and took several deep breaths.

"Let me guess. He told Harry that we were back together and everything was fine now, didn't he?" She didn't raise her head to look at him. She didn't need to see him confirm it and she felt like she might be sick. She was right not to go to Harry.

"What kind of help do you need from us?" Draco asked after another long moment of silence. She raised her head to look at him again. He was watching her. Again. Or was it still? In Blaise's eyes she had seen curiosity, just as he had stated. In Malfoy's eyes she saw more than just curiosity. She saw concern. It was the same concern she had seen when she had passed out at the Ministry and it nearly took her breath away.

"He won't accept the fact that we're over. He says we're meant to be together." She laughed without humor. Her eyes were staring at the table again. Her hands were fiddling with the sunglasses lying in front of her.

Draco's hand curled into a fist at his side. He didn't like where she was going with this. He didn't like the nervous way she kept glancing around, or the way she kept hiding behind the curtain of hair that was unnaturally straight. He had to resist the urge to do something really crazy, like sit beside her and put his arm around her shoulders.

"He came to my flat last night. He said he wanted to talk and apologize." Her voice trembled and she took a shaky breath. She wasn't going to let herself break down, not now, not in front of these two. She swallowed thickly and tried to keep her hands from shaking.

"You let him in?" Draco prompted her. He was getting impatient. He knew something had happened and the suspense was killing him. He needed to know what had happened that had led her to ask for his help.

"No." She shook her head slightly, just enough that her hair waved back and forth for a moment. "I wouldn't let him in. It didn't matter. He came in anyway."

Silence hung thick in the air. Draco clenched and unclenched his fist as he started to imagine what he would do to the Weasel the next time he saw him. Blaise leaned forward and cleared his throat.

"He came in anyway? Are you telling us he broke into your flat?"

"Yes. He laughed about it and reminded me that wards are his specialty in the Auror department." She was still playing with the sunglasses in her hands. The table was quiet as they waited for her to continue.

"We aren't exactly specialists in wards, Granger. If you need someone to set stronger wards around your flat, you've come to the wrong place."

She continued fiddling with her sunglasses as she put her thoughts in order and decided on her next course of action. She was nervous that for whatever reason they wouldn't help her. Finally she took a deep breath, sighed deeply and looked at the two men sitting across the table from her.

"I don't need stronger wards. I need some place safe where I can continue to work on my project." She let her gaze linger on Malfoy, their eyes once again locked and she got lost in his eyes for just a moment.

"So, what? You called us here to find you a place to work?" Blaise's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. He knew she was obsessed with her work, but this was just ridiculous.

"My work is important. If I can't figure it out soon, more people are going to die. I can't stop working on it just because my ex-boyfriend is stubborn and crazy. I should be working on it right now, but am I? No. Why? Because the first place Ron is going to look when he sees my flat is empty is the Ministry. I need someplace where I can do my research without constantly looking over my shoulder."

Draco watched her carefully. She wasn't being entirely truthful with them. He knew that. But what was she leaving out? And why? He backtracked through their conversation and suddenly he understood.

"What did he do, Granger? After he broke through your wards, what did he do?"

She looked at him with wide eyes for a long moment before casting her eyes back down to her sunglasses. She pulled her lip between her teeth and fought the urge to move her hair. She could feel both of their eyes on her now, watching her, evaluating her.

"Did he hurt you?" Blaise seemed to understand now, too. His voice was gentle but he was starting to get concerned. She wasn't answering either one of them. She didn't even seem to hear them.

"Hermione?" Draco reached across the table and covered her hands with his own. Immediately she felt warm tingles where his hands rested against hers. "You came to us for help. Let us help you."

She left her hands right where they were for a few dozen heartbeats. Then with another deep breath, she reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear and angled her face so they would be able to see it.

Draco's blood boiled in his veins as he saw the bruise covering the side of her face. He was going to kill Ron Weasley the next time he saw him. It took every ounce of his will power not to go after the redheaded jackass right then. The only reason he resisted was because he could see how clearly shaken up Hermione was. She had come to them for help, and he intended to help as much as she would let him.

Blaise sucked in a deep breath as he saw the same marking. Anger ripped through him at the sight. No, they had never been friends, but he had always felt that they should have been. She was a good person through and through. It was so completely wrong for her to be hurt in such a way, especially by someone she knew and trusted. He had always believed there was a special level of hell for men that would hit a woman.

"We should probably continue this conversation in private." Draco nodded to the front of the restaurant where one of the Creavey boys had just walked in. "We can go to my place?"

Hermione placed the glasses back on her face and pulled her hair around again so her face would be covered. She didn't answer him, but she did stand up and start walking towards the back entrance.

"You go. I'm going to the Ministry to get the paperwork. I'll meet you at your place as soon as I can." Blaise turned and walked to the front of the store before Draco had a chance to respond.

Draco followed Hermione out the back door. After checking quickly to make sure there were no muggles around, he held onto her wrist and apparated them both into his sitting room. Once they had stopped spinning and had gotten their bearings again Hermione stepped away from him and observed the room they had just popped into.

There was a couch and two chairs set in a circle around a square coffee table. The fabric on the furniture was dark blue and soft and velvety to the touch. A window opened up to the streets of London below.

"This isn't Malfoy Manor." In fact, she decided, this was a muggle abode.

"No. It's a well kept secret that I don't live at the Manor anymore. The only people that know are Blaise and I. And you, now, I suppose." He watched her as she wandered aimlessly around the room, dragging her hand along the back of the couch, stopping to appraise the painting of a waterfall on the wall, and finally standing in front of the window peering out through the sheer curtains.

He took a step closer to her, a movement that she caught out of the corner of her eye. In a heartbeat her attention was focused on him again, and so was her wand. He stopped moving and held his hands up in the air.

"Sorry." She gave a short laugh and shook her head as she lowered her wand. "I'm just a little bit jumpy."

"Understandable." He took another step forward. "I'm not here to hurt you."

Absentmindedly she pushed her hair behind her ear, giving him a clear look at the bruise on her face.

"I know that. It's more instinct than anything. Don't take it personal." Finally she raised her eyes up to meet his. That's when she realized what he was looking at. She turned around quickly and pulled her hair down again to cover it.

Blaise stepped through the floo then, and whatever Draco would have said to her was lost. Blaise looked back and forth between her and Draco. She was standing with her back to them and her shoulder leaning against the window frame. Draco was only a foot or two behind her, staring intently at the back of her head. He felt as though he had interrupted a moment between the two of them and he shifted his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. No one made a sound for a very long, very uncomfortable moment.

"Granger, we need to take a picture for the report." Draco said the words quietly, but loud enough that Blaise and Hermione both heard him. He wanted to reach out and touch her, a hand on the shoulder or on her waist or something, but he didn't dare. She had nearly hexed him for taking a step closer to her a minute ago.

"I know. I just, I'm not sure about this." She turned away from the window and sank down into one of the armchairs. She put her elbows on her knees and dropped her face into the palms of her hands.

"You aren't sure? About filing a report?" Draco stood behind the couch looking at her incredulously.

"Yes. A report." She stood abruptly and started pacing back and forth between the chairs and the coffee table. "A report means pictures and statements and people viewing my memory. It means a court date and a trial and articles in the Prophet. And my 'friends' telling me that I overreacted or that I must have misunderstood because Ronald would never do anything to hurt me, except that he did and now I can't go home and I can't go to work and I have to get back to work because I am so fucking close to finding the answer and people are depending on me."

She stopped pacing and stared blankly at the wall. She didn't notice when Malfoy moved to stand in front of her.

"Look at what he did to you, Hermione. You came to me because you didn't want him to get away with this. We have to file a report."

She seemed to realize how close he was to her, but she didn't try to move away from him. If anything, she took a step closer.

"I came to you because I needed someplace safe to stay so I could continue my work." Her eyes were angry, but underneath that anger she was pleading with him to understand. "If I file a report, it will only make him even angrier and no one will believe it anyway."

His hand slowly reached up and pushed the hair out of her face.

"You can't let him get away with this. Ron Weasley is not above the law. He broke into your home and assaulted you. I'm tempted to track him down right now and teach him a lesson he won't soon forget."

Her eyes met his. The amount of concern she saw there shocked her. He was concerned for her. He was worried about her. He didn't want anything to happen to her. Who the hell was this man standing before her? Was this really Draco Malfoy? The same kid that bullied her for years? The same boy that watched her get tortured in his own home and later apologized for not helping? The same man that a few days ago had caught her when she fell and she had felt so safe in his arms?

"Fine. I'll file a report." She sighed. She didn't want to file a report. She knew it wasn't a good idea. It would be like poking a hornet's nest with a stick. Why did she agree to it, then? She didn't have a clue.

Blaise cleared his throat and they both turned to look at him in surprise. They had forgotten he was even there. Or had they been so wrapped up in each other that they never even noticed him come in the room to begin with?

"I can take the pictures first, and then we'll need a full statement of what happened." He pulled the camera out of the leather bag he was carrying. It was their standard field kit, complete with a camera, sterile gloves, and witness statement forms for every possible scenario the MLE could be called in for.

She didn't move for a long moment, long enough that Blaise wondered if she had heard him. Slowly she lifted her head and glared at him. With a deep breath she pushed her hair out of the way and turned to the side so he would have a clear picture. He took several pictures before stepping back.

"Are there any other marks or bruises?"

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at both of the wizards in the room. Blaise met her glare and simply waited for her reply. He looked calm and collected, but it was slightly unnerving to have Hermione Granger stare you down. He wouldn't have been surprised if his clothing caught on fire just from the intensity of her gaze.

Draco had stepped back while Blaise took the pictures of the bruise on her face. He watched and he waited for her to answer the question. The longer it took for her to answer, the deeper his heart plunged. There were more. Her silence confirmed it.

Hermione soon realized that Blaise wasn't going to back down. She had agreed to file a report, so that's what she would do. She closed her eyes and ran her hands through her hair as she took a deep breath. Her hands went to the hem of her sweater. She didn't let herself think about it anymore as she lifted the fabric up and pulled the sweater over her head. She was still wearing a white tank top and a bra, but that tank top was considerably less material than most anyone ever saw her in. And it was fitted pretty tight, so it showed off all of her curves.

She gathered her hair into a loose bun at the nape of her neck and clipped it there to keep it out of the way. Then she turned to Blaise and raised her eyebrow.

Blaise and Draco were both staring at her, unblinking. She looked down at herself and rolled her eyes.

"Seriously? I'm sure you've seen much better looking women than me in much less clothing before. Just take the damn pictures already." Her growl seemed to snap both of them out of it.

"Right, sorry. I wasn't exactly prepared for you to strip in front of me." Blaise fumbled for the camera, completely dumbfounded.

Draco recovered first, his eyes leaving her body and traveling across her chest until something different caught his eye. Something that didn't belong on a woman as beautiful as she. Deep purple bruises covered both of her shoulders. He had gripped her so hard that Draco could make out the outline of each finger on her creamy white skin.

"Merlin, Granger! What did he do to you?" Draco crossed the room to stand in front of her. He had the strongest urge to just gather her in his arms and never let go. His eyes met hers, which were moist with unshed tears. He almost did it. He almost reached for her. Then she took a step back and rubbed at her eyes angrily.

"He caught me by surprise. I won't make that mistake again." Her voice was cold and distant. In her mind, she was replaying the memory, pinpointing the exact moment when she screwed up. Knowing what she would do differently if she could have done it again.

Draco could practically read her thoughts. He knew she was blaming herself for letting it happen. He could see it written all over her face. Again, he had the urge to comfort her. He didn't know where these urges were coming from. Draco Malfoy did not comfort people. Ever.

He stepped back and let Blaise take the pictures he needed. Then he handed Hermione a form and a quill so she could write down her statement. While she was busy writing, Blaise motioned for Draco to follow him.

"What the hell is going on with you?" Blaise glared at him the second they stepped into the dining room.

"What are you talking about?" Draco cast a glance back at Hermione to make sure she was still writing, and then turned around to face his friend and partner.

"Look Draco, I don't know when this…whatever this is happened, but you need to be careful. This is a serious conflict of interest. I don't think you should be on this case."

"I'm not giving this case to anyone else. Forget it. And for your information, there is nothing going on between us." Draco's eyes narrowed at the thought of giving someone else the case. She had come to him, damn it. He wasn't going to hand her off to someone else.

"Right. Don't forget, Weasley already knows about you two. He asked her point blank if she was breaking up with him because of you." Blaise was pacing across the dining room now, trying to piece together what needed to be done next.

When he had gotten a message that Hermione Granger wanted to meet with them, of course he was suspicious and curious. What he never expected was that she would come to the meeting dressed in a disguise and looking hotter than ever, or that she would be covered in bruises. Or that the sexual tension between her and Draco would have been so thick that he could cut it with a knife.

"Weasley doesn't know dick."

Hermione came into the room then. She had her statement written out, and a small vial holding a silver memory thread. She handed both of them to Blaise.

"Zabini is right. For whatever reason Ron suspects something is going on between us. He said it again last night. When he is notified of this report, he's going to suspect that you are involved." The concern she was feeling was evident in her voice. She was worried about filing the report. She was worried about the aftermath.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized that Ron would probably go after Malfoy. He was in danger now because he had helped her the other day at the Ministry, and would be in even more danger once Ron saw the report.

"Just watch yourself, okay? He's possessive and crazy and…"

Draco's eyes widened briefly as he realized she wasn't just worried about filing the report, she was also worried about him. She was worried that Weasley would come after him.

"Look at me, Hermione." Draco stood in front of her and gently tilted her chin up so she was looking into his eyes. "He's not going to hurt me. And he's not going to hurt you again, either."

A tear slid slowly down her cheek as she searched his eyes. She wanted to believe him. She needed to believe him.

The urge to comfort her was stronger than ever, and this time he didn't ignore it. He gently wiped the tear away with his thumb before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against his chest. She hesitated only a moment before melting into him.

"I'm not going to let him hurt you again." He whispered into her ear.

The comforting embrace. The soothing words. His all encompassing scent. It was all too much for her. The reality of the last twenty four hours crashed down on her and she broke down. Huge sobs wracked her body as she gripped Draco tightly, holding onto him like a lifeline. He held her while she cried, whispering gentle words in her ear every few moments.

Blaise was torn. He had always known Hermione to be a strong, independent woman, even when they were still kids. To see her fall apart like this, it was like a slap in the face. It was a reminder that she was still human, she still had her vulnerabilities, and even she had her breaking point. He was almost jealous that Draco was the one holding her while she fell apart rather than himself.

He knew, though. Despite Draco telling him there was nothing going on, he knew there was something there. It was obvious in the small looks and the touches, in the way that he held her, in the way that she clung to him. It was obvious there was something between them. It was something new maybe, something undefined, but it was there.

**AN: Okay, so did you all love this chapter as much as I loved writing it? **


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hello again all! I know it's been a couple of weeks since I updated. Writer's block, I guess. I'm a bit nervous about this chapter. Of course, I'm always nervous about every chapter I post, so nothing new there. **

**Thank you all for reading / following / reviewing / favoriting. Your comments make my day. Really and truly.**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Nine**

It was early evening before Harry stumbled out of the fireplace and into Grimmauld Place. He had had a long and frustrating day and all he really wanted to do now was sit in his study and contemplate his next move. After talking with Ron that morning he knew that he had to do something, he just needed to figure out what.

He took three steps towards his study when he heard an odd noise coming from the sitting room. He paused and listened. It sounded like…humming? Curious now, he walked towards the sitting room and pushed the door open just enough so he could peer inside. He watched with a growing sense of horror until he couldn't take it anymore. Then he cleared his throat and stepped into the room.

"Ginny? What in Merlin's name are you doing?"

The redheaded witch dropped the measuring tape she was holding and spun around to face him. Her eyes were wide and a smile that was meant to be flirtatious spread across her face.

"Harry! You're home!" She crossed the room and threw her arms around his neck. "I've been waiting for you forever."

He gently removed her arms and stepped away from her.

"Why? Did we have plans for today?" He wracked his brain trying to remember if he had forgotten one of the inane outings that she was always setting up for them. Maybe today they were supposed to go walk hand in hand to the ice cream shop and feed each other mint chocolate chip ice cream. No, that was on last weekend's agenda.

"Not for today, no. But don't forget tomorrow we are going to the pet store to pick out a new kitten." She smiled at him again and turned back to the windows.

"So why are you here, then? And why are we picking out a kitten?" His head was starting to hurt. He rubbed at his temple and sat down in his favorite armchair.

"I can't just come visit my boyfriend for no reason?" She turned to face him; her eyes were wide and filled with false hurt. He barely refrained from rolling his eyes at her dramatics. "Also, I wanted to get the measurements on these drapes. While we're in Diagon Alley at the pet store, we can also stop and buy some new ones. We certainly don't want to entertain guests in a room that is so dreary."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, Ginny. But why would we be entertaining guests in here anyway?"

"For the engagement party, of course!" She smiled at him again, then went back to measuring.

"We aren't engaged." He could feel the familiar anxiety creeping up on him. The same anxiety he felt every time he thought about spending the rest of his life with her.

"Well, we will be soon enough I imagine."

He forced himself to take a deep breath and push it out.

"Where have you been all day, anyway?" She finished her measurements and wrote down the results. Then she poured each of them a cup of tea and sat down across from him.

"I was looking for Hermione. Have you seen her?"

Her eyes darkened and her jaw clenched.

"No I haven't seen her. She was probably at work. That's all she ever does is work." She flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Did Ron tell you that they got back together?"

"He did. That's why I was trying to find her, actually. It doesn't make sense to me that she would take him back. She was miserable with him."

"In case you haven't noticed, Harry, Hermione is always miserable, no matter what. The only time she isn't miserable is when she's got her head stuck in a book."

Harry was surprised by her words as much as by the amount of venom in her voice as she spoke.

"I thought you were her friend? Why are you talking about her like that?" He could feel anger boiling inside of him. He wasn't as close to Hermione now as he used to be, but he still considered her his friend. As her friend, he felt the need to defend her, even if it was against his girlfriend.

"I tried being her friend, for you and for Ron's sake. I just can't do it anymore. She's boring, Harry! And she talks down to everyone like she's so much smarter and so much better than everyone else. Honestly, Ron should have been happy when she broke it off with him. He can do so much better." She stood up and took a close look at the couch she had been sitting on. "Do you think we should get new furniture as well? It may be easier than trying to match the drapes to this hideous couch."

A lot of things became clear to Harry in that moment. Issues that he had pushed aside and ignored and pretended never existed came to the forefront of his mind and he knew exactly what he needed to do. He took a deep breath to calm himself, to make sure his voice would hold steady.

"I am not buying new furniture." His voice was hard, cold and pointed. She stopped what she was doing and turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

"I am not buying new drapes. I am not buying a new kitten. And I am certainly not marrying you. Not now. Not later. Not ever."

She stumbled backwards, her hand flying up to cover her heart. Her eyes were wide and shocked and he watched them blink closed slowly at first, then faster.

"What are you talking about, Harry? Of course we're getting married. We've been together for over three years!"

"I know. I should have ended this charade years ago. I'm sorry for that, Gin. But I don't love you. Not enough to marry you." He stood up and faced her.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Her voice was angry, despite the act she was putting on of being heartbroken. "Are you breaking up with me because of Hermione fucking Granger?"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"Does it matter why? I'm going to ask you to leave now, and don't come back."

She glared at him. In her narrowed eyes he could tell that she wouldn't let this drop.

"What do you think my brother is going to say when he finds out that you're in love with his girlfriend?"

He nearly laughed at that. He wasn't in love with Hermione. Why did everyone always assume that? He wasn't in love with her, but she did mean a lot to him. She was his sister, the only family he had. He knew he had let her down since the war. It wasn't his fault. Not really. Well, maybe a little bit. But he was determined to make it up to her. He was going to make it right now that he could.

"She's not his girlfriend. She broke up with him days ago, and until I hear it from her mouth I will never believe that she took him back."

"Because you want her for yourself?" She had given up on the heartbroken girl act. Now he could see the Weasley temper shining through.

"Kreature!" The elderly elf popped into the room only seconds later. "Please show Miss Weasley out. She is not welcome in my house again."

"Kreature will show the blood traitor out." There was a twinkle in his eye as he grabbed hold of Ginny's wrist.

"Harry! You can't be serious! You're just going to throw away the last three years of our lives?" She shrieked. Her eyes were wild now. She was passing anger and moving on to desperation quickly.

"I should have done it a long time ago." He nodded at Kreature and the elf apparated away, leaving his sitting room empty once again.

Kreature left Ginny on the front sidewalk in the falling rain. She stomped her foot in frustration as 12 Grimmauld Place disappeared from her sight. She glared at the spot where she knew it must be for a long moment before turning and walking away in the rain, determined to find her brother and find out what in the hell had gone wrong.

* * *

Blaise had not had a horrible childhood. It wasn't idyllic by any means, but compared to his friends it was damn close. He didn't have a father that was a death eater. He didn't have a mother that followed blindly along with whatever her husband said. What he had were more step fathers than you could count on one hand, and a mother that raised him and doted on him without the help of anyone else. When he was young, she would sit on his bed, with him curled up against her side, and she would tell him stories.

Now his mother had always been a hopeless romantic, and as such most of her stories were about love. He didn't remember all of them, there were so many. He had always thought she made them up as she went along. He told her once, after he had grown, that she had a talent for telling her stories and she should write them down and sell them. She told hem then that only some of the stories she had told were hers. The rest she couldn't take credit for. They were stories she had heard from her mother when she was young.

One of those stories was a tale about a man and a woman that fell in love. They were separated by their families, on opposite sides of an age old conflict. They tried running away together several times, but were always caught. Finally the parents, tired of wasting time and resources trying to keep track of the young couple, agreed to let the two be together if they could prove they were true soul mates.

The man went to work immediately trying to find a way to prove his love for her. It took many years, but he never gave up. One night the Fates were watching the man when he seemed to be close to admitting defeat. He broke down in tears and begged the Powers That Be for help. He knew they were meant to be, he just didn't know how to prove it.

As he slept, the Fates appeared to him in a dream. They explained to him that there is a way, but that it was risky. People that are not soul mates fall in love and live very happy lives without ever knowing there is someone else out there intended for them alone. In fact, it is extremely rare for anyone to actually find their one true soul mate.

He insisted to the fates that she was his soul mate, and he begged them to tell him what to do.

"You must claim her as your own," they said, "and you must taste of her life force. If she is your soul mate, the two of you will be bound by your very souls for eternity. If she is not, though, then no binding will occur and she will be pushed into the arms of her true soul mate."

The man explained the ritual to his love. He explained the possible outcomes and the risks and together they decided to perform the ritual. In the story, when the ritual was complete a golden light formed around the couple and an unbreakable bond was formed between them. Presumably they lived happily ever after.

This was one of the stories that Blaise's mother had told him when he was a young boy. It was one of the stories that years later she had written down at his insistence. And it was one of the stories that was published less than a year ago. He knew for certain because he had helped her publish it. He had read it over and over again looking for mistakes, proofreading it before it was printed and released.

As he was pulled out of Hermione Granger's memory, what he had just witnessed made him sick to his stomach. Not only had the Weasel hit her, or held her so tight by the shoulders that he left bruises. On top of that, he tried to claim her. He tried to bind their souls together. The outrage that he felt was no match for the outrage that Draco was feeling, though.

"I'll fucking kill him!" Draco picked up the first thing he got his hands on, a vase, and threw it across the room. It shattered against the wall spectacularly, but it did little to quell the rage building in his system.

Blaise still wasn't sure what was going on between Draco and Hermione. After she had broken down in tears, he had given her a calming draught and she had fallen asleep. She was sleeping now, upstairs in a guest bedroom. Still, he didn't think he would soon forget the sight of Granger sobbing, clinging to Draco for comfort while he held her and soothed her. What he did know, was that Draco was entirely too involved in this case emotionally.

"You can't kill him. As much as you may want to." Blaise repaired the vase and placed it back on the table.

"Did you see what he did to her? What he tried to do to her?" Draco was pacing back and forth now. His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides. He knew he would have to hit the gym soon. The urge to pummel someone was too great. He had to try to work out some of this anger that was flowing through him before he left his home and encountered other people.

"Weasley's a moron. That story was fiction, something my mother made up one lonely night." At least, he was pretty sure it was fiction. He was nearly positive that it was fiction. It was fiction. It had to be.

"Does that really matter? He tried to claim her soul, Blaise!" He stopped pacing and sat down in one of the heavy wooden chairs that surrounded the dining room table.

"I know. It's fucked up." Blaise sat down in the chair across the table. The pensive was still sitting on the end of the table with the silver memory thread swirling around inside it. Between them was the folder containing her statements and the pictures of the bruising. He placed his hand over the folder and pulled it toward himself on the table.

"I'm going to file this report myself, and I'm not including your name anywhere in it." He braced himself for the explosion, knowing that Draco would be angry with his suggestion. He was surprised when the blond simply glared at him for a moment.

"Why?"

"Because Weasley already suspects that you're fucking Granger and it would look awfully suspicious to have your name on the report."

Draco couldn't help but replay in his mind the moment when Ron had accused her of sleeping with him. The look of pure shock and indignant righteousness that crossed over her eyes brought the ghost of a smile to his lips.

"Who gives a fuck what Weasley suspects? Let him think whatever he wants to."

Blaise sighed. He knew it wouldn't be that easy to convince his friend in this matter.

"Because she'll be safer here if no one suspects she's with you, but if your name is on this report then they might."

There was a long pause as the two stared at each other across the table.

"You and I are the only ones that know this place even exists. No one will look for her here. They might look at the Manor, but they won't find anything."

Draco's leg was starting to bounce up and down in irritation now. A small part of him understood what Blaise was saying, but a large part of him felt responsible for her. He had promised he would help her. How would he be helping her if he let Blaise take the heat for the report?

"You like her, Draco. It's a conflict of interest." Blaise was getting irritated as well. Why couldn't his partner just see the reasoning behind this decision?

"I'm nothing if not professional, Blaise. You know that. It's only a conflict of interest if you make it so."

Blaise lost his patience then. He stood up quickly and slapped his hands down on the table between them.

"This whole thing is going to get ugly. The press is going to have a field day with this. It's going to be extremely high profile. That means we have to dot every 'I' and cross every 't'. The last thing we need is one of the lead detectives fucking the victim! That has mistrial written all over it!"

Draco jumped up from his chair, rage flowing through his body once again.

"Are you suggesting that I would take advantage of her?" His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes narrowed and glaring across the table.

"Take advantage of her? No. That's not what I'm suggesting. Damn it, Malfoy! I don't know how long you've been seeing each other, and I don't know how Weasley figured it out before I did, but you need to think about what you are doing here."

Draco stared at him in shock. His mouth dropped open several times as he tried to find the words to tell his oldest (and only) friend exactly how wrong he was in his observations, but he couldn't find the right words to say.

Blaise took his silence as confirmation and slowly shook his head.

"At least tell me you've been discrete? There aren't going to be pictures that are going to surface of the two of you meeting up in some muggle hotel or something?"

"No, there won't be any pictures." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"Good." Blaise collected the memory and the folder and placed both in his kit. "I'm going to file this with the Minister. I'll be in touch."

He had to walk past Draco to get to the fireplace in the next room. He was almost through the door when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Blaise, wait…"

He didn't give Draco a chance to finish that thought. He muttered a quick _stupefy_ and watched his partner crumble to the floor. It was for the best, really. Then he turned and left the house.

His first stop from there was the Ministry where he hand delivered the report to Kingsley himself. He sat in the chair across from the Minister as the imposing man read through the report, looked at the pictures and viewed the memory. At first, he seemed to not believe what he was seeing. As he read through the report, though, Blaise could see his face hardening in anger.

"Where is Miss Granger now?" His voice was cold and he stared at Blaise with dark eyes. Zabini immediately closed off his mind lest the Minister try to use legilimancy against him.

"She's someplace safe." He forced himself to stay relaxed in his chair and not show the nerves that were running wild through his body.

"Hermione is a friend of mine. I'd like to speak to her, to make sure she's okay. Where is she?"

Blaise cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. There was no doubt that Kingsley was an intimidating man.

"With all due respect, sir, Hermione came to me directly for help. I promised her I would keep her safe. I'm the only person that knows where she is, and until Weasley is in Azkaban, I intend to keep it that way."

The Minister glared at him for another long moment before finally nodding his head.

"Brilliant witch, as always. She chose well by coming to you. Keep her safe, Mr. Zabini at all costs." He placed the report back in the file and dropped it into a magical chute that would send it directly to the Wizangamot. "I'll have this case heard first thing Monday morning and we'll work on an arrest warrant at that time. I don't think I need to tell you that reporters are permitted inside the courtroom, so by Monday afternoon the whole wizarding world will know about this."

"Yes, sir. We are aware of that. She's prepared for that to happen. The only thing she's worried about it being able to continue working on her research. She won't tell me what project she's working on, just that it's a matter of life and death." He rolled his eyes at that.

"For her, maybe it is." Kingsley smiled at him, a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Come by tomorrow morning and I'll help you gather her research from the lab. I'm sure she can work on it wherever you are keeping her."

Blaise readily agreed. If she had her research maybe she would stop crying so much. It really was a disturbing sight that he hoped to never see again.

He left the Ministry shortly after that and his next stop was a muggle club he had frequented often enough whenever he needed to escape the wizarding world. There were tables along the edges, music blaring non-stop, and plenty of scantily clad women dancing and grinding against each other on the dance floor. He ordered his usual drink and scanned the room. He was surprised to see a familiar face in the crowd. Sitting at a table by himself, watching a group of twenty-something blondes dance right in front of him, sat none other than Harry Potter.

Blaise searched the room again, this time looking for the telling red hair of the Weasleys. Surely either the Weasel or the Weaselette would be here if Potter was. He waited and watched for several long minutes before approaching the table.

"Potter. If Weaselette sees you drooling over those muggles, she'll have your hide." He didn't wait for an invitation before sitting down next to Harry and taking a long drink from the bottle in his hand.

"Zabini. Not that it's any of your business, but Ginny and I broke up this afternoon."

Blaise nearly choked on his beer.

"Wow. Really? That seems…unexpected."

"Honestly don't know why I didn't do it years ago." Harry shrugged his shoulders and took a long drink from his glass.

"That's funny. Hermione said the same thing." He hadn't meant to say that. Not really. He grimaced as the words slipped out on their own accord.

"Really? When did you talk to Hermione?" Piercing green eyes glared at him. It was a bit unnerving to be on the other end of that glare, but he didn't let it show. Instead he raised an eyebrow and settled back in his seat.

"Does it matter? Does she need permission to talk to the likes of me?" He tried to sound offended. When he saw the defeated look in Potter's eyes he wasn't sure he had pulled it off.

"Of course not, Zabini. I just wondered if you'd talked to her today. I've been looking everywhere for her and can't find her." Harry picked his glass up and stared into as he swirled the auburn liquid around the bottom of the glass.

Blaise took a long drink from his bottle as he debated his options. Lie or tell the truth? Why hadn't Hermione gone to Potter in the first place?

Oh, right. Malfoy, that's why. Malfoy, who was supposed to be his friend. Malfoy, who supposedly hadn't talked to her for years until three days ago. Malfoy, who probably had her spread out beneath him on his black silk sheets at that very moment.

He slammed his bottle down on the table.

"I talked to her this afternoon."

Those green eyes snapped back up to his.

"You did? How is she? Where is she? I was going to try her flat again in a little bit."

"She isn't there." Again, he grimaced as the words were spoken against his will. Agitated with himself, he put the bottle down on the table and pushed it away. Obviously he had too much to drink already.

"Where is she?" Potter was glaring at him again. He also got the feeling that a wand was being pointed at him under the table, away from muggle sight.

"What do you say we go and talk somewhere a little more private?"

Harry stared at him for a long moment. He studied the man sitting next to him. He didn't particularly know or trust Zabini, but on the other hand he didn't really have any reason not to trust him. And he had been looking for 'Mione all day. He needed to know what Zabini knew, even if it wasn't much at all. Reluctantly he nodded his head in agreement and the two stood from the table. They exited the club and entered the dark alley beside it.

"So, your place or mine?" Blaise laughed at his own joke as Harry rolled his eyes, grabbed his arm, and apparated them both away.

* * *

**AN: So…what did you think? Don't worry, we'll be back to Hermione next chapter. On a separate note, I'm thinking about setting up a facebook page for my fanfiction. Good idea or no?**

**Thanks again for reading. :) **

**-mezy**


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Hi all. Not much response to the last chapter. I know FF had an issue with their bot that day, so hopefully everyone got a notification that it posted. **

**I'm excited about this chapter. :) Hopefully you all like it as much as I do. I know, my posting is erratic. I'd like to say that will change and I'll get back to a regular posting schedule, but the truth is it probably won't. I write when I have the chance, and I post as soon as I'm happy with the chapter and have a firm feel of where the next chapter will lead. **

**As always, thank you all for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing. I write for myself. I post my stories for you guys to enjoy. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Ten**

_Hermione stood on the porch. Her hands gripped the railing in front of her. A warm breeze surrounded her, pulling her brown curls behind her. The water in front of her lapped against a rocky shore. Birds could be heard singing in the distance. She took a deep breath and inhaled the clean, fresh air that can only be found far away from the city._

"_I told you I would keep you safe." A velvety smooth voice stated from behind her. Her breath caught at the sound of his voice. Her heart rate increased as she felt him closing in on her._

"_You never have to worry here." He stood directly behind her now. He placed his hands next to hers on the railing. She could feel him now, pressed against her, his chest rising and falling with every breath he took. The heat from each breath spread across her cheek._

"_I think I have plenty to worry about here, actually." She managed to answer, but her voice was shaky and not at all convincing. "You are much more dangerous than I ever could have imagined."_

_Despite her protest, she found herself leaning into him, wanting…no…needing to touch him._

"_Dangerous? Me? How so?" The smile now tugging at his lips was evident in his voice. He didn't believe her. He couldn't believe her when she was leaning into him, her head tilted to the side, baring her delicate neck to him. He took her invitation, dipping his head slowly and gently kissing the creamy white skin right below her ear. _

_She gasped aloud, but did not move away. Her eyes fluttered closed. She almost forgot to answer him._

"_You are a distraction. A horrible, wonderful distraction."_

_He kissed her neck again, sucking the skin in gently and she moaned in pleasure. Electricity was shooting through her body, awakening every nerve ending. She had never felt anything like it. It was almost sensory overload and he had barely even touched her._

"_Maybe a distraction is just what you need." His words were whispered against her skin._

_She turned her head to look at him. Piercing gray eyes that were darkened with lust stared at her with such intensity that any willpower she had crumbled to dust. He searched her eyes, watching, waiting, willing her to agree. She nodded her head once, barely, almost imperceptively, but he had seen it nonetheless. _

_In a heartbeat his lips were covering hers, moving, tasting, devouring. She fell into the kiss, fell into him. And then she was falling…falling…falling…_

Hermione woke with a gasp of air, her eyes flew open and her hand covered her rapidly beating heart. She stared into the darkness and willed her heart to slow back to normal.

"What the fuck was that?" She asked to the empty room. That, she decided, had been the most intense dream she had ever had. She could still feel his arms around her, could still smell the clean lemon grass scent surrounding her, covering her, embracing her.

She rolled to a sitting position on the edge of the unfamiliar bed. Enough moonlight was shining through the curtains to show her that she was truly alone in the room. She flipped on the bedside lamp and scanned the room quickly. She was still fully clothed, and had been sleeping on top of the pale green bedspread. Her right hand went to her boot where she found her wand, exactly where she had stored it. In her left boot she found her beaded bag, full of all of the possessions she had packed before leaving her flat.

Slowly the events that had led her to this place returned to her memory. Ron's attack, leaving her flat, asking Malfoy and Zabini for help, breaking down in front of them. Oh Merlin, had she really cried like that in front of Draco Malfoy? Had he really held her until the tears had stopped and she could breathe normally again?

What had happened then? She remembered sitting down and drinking a cup of tea that Zabini had handed her. Then…nothing.

A calming draught. They had given her a calming draught and put her to sleep. She huffed once at this, but then realized that she didn't blame them at all. She had freaked out more than a little on them.

The clock on the bedside table showed it to be 5:22 AM. She had been out for nearly fifteen hours. She stood up and stretched her muscles. Aside from her eyes being sore and her head aching from crying so hard, she felt pretty good. That was the best sleep she'd had in ages.

The room, which she assumed was a guest bedroom, was decorated in pale green and white with some dark green accents. The walls were pale green to match the bedspread. The trim and the draperies were dark green. The bed, the dresser, the dressing table, and the bedside table were all white. There was a painting on the wall over the bed of a beautiful forest scene. A small smile pulled at her lips for a moment as she realized the painting wasn't moving.

There was a door to the right of the bed that led to a large walk-in closet. The closet was empty. The next door was an en-suite bathroom that was bigger than the bedroom in her flat. One long look at the bathtub had her pulling her clothes off and sinking into a vat of steaming hot water filled with lavender scented bubbles. She soaked in the tub for a long time, only emerging once the water had cooled and the bubbles had nearly all disappeared. She left the tub and stepped into the shower, washing away the soap residue and washing and conditioning her hair. The towels she found were large and fluffy and luxurious, and of course, they were green. She wrapped one around her body and wrapped another around her hair.

She dug around in her beaded bag until she found a pair of jeans and a long sleeved green v-neck pullover. It seemed fitting, what with sleeping in a green room in a Slytherin's house and all. As she combed through her thick hair, her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before.

She pulled on a pair of thick black socks and the clothes she had picked out, picked her wand up off the bedspread, and opened the last door in the room. She stepped out into a hallway and tried to get her bearings. The hallway went off in both directions. To her right she could see a door on the other side of the hallway, and further down a staircase. To her left she saw a door on each side of the hallway, and a large bay window at the end. She was curious as to what lay beyond each of these doors, but now wasn't the time to be exploring Draco Malfoy's house. She turned to the right and padded softly towards the stairs.

Once downstairs she easily found the kitchen. There weren't many food options available, but she was able to find a few eggs, a package of bacon and a half a loaf of nearly stale bread. She smiled to herself as she realized the choices weren't much different than what she would find in her own kitchen. She set about frying the bacon and eggs and prepared two plates of food.

She was just setting them down on the small kitchen table when a noise behind her startled her. She spun around quickly, wand in hand. She found herself face to face with Malfoy. He was wearing black and gray sleep pants and a black t-shirt. His hair was disheveled as though he had just gotten out of bed. And his wand was pointed straight at her.

They stood there, facing off with wands drawn for a long minute.

Draco lowered his wand first. Reluctantly she lowered hers as well.

"Sorry. I heard someone moving around down here. I'm used to being alone here." He ran his hand through his hair. She tried not to laugh when he pulled his hand away and the hair remained standing straight up in spots.

"And you thought an intruder broke in to make you breakfast?" She motioned to the plates on the table.

"You never know. Stranger things could happen." He smirked. She laughed.

Draco got two glasses out of the cabinet and poured them each some orange juice before joining her at the table.

"Did you sleep well?"

She looked into his eyes. Merlin he had beautiful eyes. Instantly she was thrown back into her dream, looking into those eyes, feeling him against her, touching her, holding her, kissing her. She looked away quickly, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks, and hoping he hadn't noticed it.

"I did. I think Zabini overdid it on the calming draught, though."

"Yeah," he laughed. "I told him that when you passed out on the table."

They both chuckled at that. Draco was surprised she wasn't angry about it, but she really wasn't. They didn't talk while they ate, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Not until they had both finished eating and had pushed the empty plates away. Then the silence became heavy with unasked questions, unspoken words.

"Did you watch the memory?" Hermione broke the silence first.

"I did." His fingers tightened around his glass.

"He thinks we're sleeping together." She still didn't look at him.

"He's an idiot."

She looked up from her juice glass then. Her brown eyes met his and he could see the irritation she was feeling in them. Her eyes were so expressive. He felt he could read every mood she had in those chocolate brown orbs.

"He's an asshole, but he isn't stupid. Don't underestimate him, Malfoy. The bumbling fool thing is just an act. He's coming after me. I know it. And as soon as he sees your name on that report, he's going to know exactly where to look."

"He's not going to find you here." He leaned forward in his chair and placed his hand over hers, squeezing gently. "No one knows about this place. It's unplottable. You are safe here."

She looked at his hand over her own. The warm tingles were back.

"Maybe I am. But are you safe out there?" She kept her eyes on their hands and didn't move. "If he goes after you, it will be because of me."

"If he comes after me, I'll deal with it. If it puts your mind at ease, my name isn't on the report."

Her eyes snapped to his again and she visibly relaxed.

"It's not?" The relief was evident in her voice. He wasn't sure whether to be glad that he had gotten her to relax a little, or upset that she didn't want him working on her case.

"Blaise thought it would be a conflict of interest. He filed the report by himself last night." He didn't mention that Blaise also thought they were sleeping together. Or that after they had watched her memory his friend had to magically restrain him from hunting down the Weasel and torturing the rodent to death.

"Good." A ghost of a smile flirted with her lips before it fell away.

"Good? Damn it, Granger! You came to me for help!" His hand smacked against the table as he stood. "I should have gone with him."

"Are you not helping me?" She stood as well, facing off with him over the table. "You are providing me with safety and security. I don't give a damn about that report. Let Blaise deal with Ron. I don't need you to go fight for my honor or something."

"He hit you because of me. It's my duty to fight for your honor."

The last of his words echoed in the otherwise empty kitchen.

"He hit me because somehow he's turned into a possessive jackass. I think he took for granted that I would just always be there or something, that I would never get tired of his bullshit. He thought I would put up with it forever just so I wouldn't be alone. Maybe when he saw us together that day in the cafeteria, maybe he realized that I could have other options. And if I had other options, would I stay with him? Then I go and break up with him on the same day. It had nothing to do with you, of course. I broke up with him for a myriad of different reasons. Things that had been building for a long time, but I kept putting it off. I just couldn't see myself putting it off any longer. But don't you see? He's latched on to you as the reason, but it isn't your fault. Not really."

Sometime during her speech she had stepped away from the table. Now she was standing directly in front of him, looking into his eyes. Merlin she could get lost in those eyes.

"Why did you come to me? If you wanted Zabini to file the report, what did you want from me?" She was close enough that he could touch her if he wanted to. He had held her the night before and now his arms itched to hold her again. It was torture having her right there in front of him and not being able to touch her.

"I wanted this." She pushed her curls back behind her ear before motioning to the room around them. "I needed someplace safe where I can work without looking over my shoulder. I can't live my life on the run right now. I just can't. I don't have the time for that."

"Again with work? Is that all you ever think about?" He rolled his eyes and turned away from her. He needed a little distance. She was much too close to him. "Your ex-boyfriend assaulted you in your own home, Hermione! I think its okay to take a break, don't you?"

"No, I don't." The irritation in her voice was evident. "I get that no one else understands how important this is. Everyone just thinks I am obsessed or just really anti-social or something. If I don't find the ingredient I need in the next few days, it will be too late. I thought you of all people would understand how important this is!"

Her eyes widened and her hand slapped over her own mouth. She certainly had not meant to say that!

His heart plummeted as he watched her reaction and he replayed her words over in his mind. Why would he understand how important her work was? He didn't even know what she was working on. It was classified, she had told him that herself. What could she be working on?

His mouth suddenly went dry as he understood.

"What are you working on?" His words were barely whispered. His fingers gripped the back of the chair in front of him. It couldn't be. They told him there was no cure. They told him there was no hope.

"I'm sorry, Malfoy." Her hands were shaking as she stepped closer to him. "You weren't supposed to know. No one is supposed to know. Not until it was finished. We didn't want to give false hope."

She put her knee on the chair in front of him and placed her hands over top of his. She tried to make eye contact with him, but his eyes were glassed over. He was staring at nothing right in front of him, waiting for her to confirm what he already knew.

"Tell me, Granger." His eyes suddenly focused on hers, bore into hers, searching them for confirmation.

"My assignment is to find a cure for PCS."

His eyes closed and he released a breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding.

"I'm close, Draco. I'm so close. One more ingredient, that's all I need. Once I find it I can work on the arithmancy and develop the formula." She slid her hands around his waist and laid her head against his chest, needing to comfort him in that moment the same way he had comforted her the night before. His scent was already so familiar to her. She inhaled it, savored it.

Slowly he released his grip on the chair and spread his hands across her back.

"You're trying to save my mother." His words were barely whispered as he stood still, staring at the wall, trying to comprehend how this woman could devote her life to saving people she didn't know, people that had fought against her in the war.

"Among other people, yes."

He held on to her for several minutes, rubbing small circles on her back with his thumbs and contemplating the amazing woman in his arms.

His mother was dying. He had known that for years. When she had been diagnosed two years earlier she had been in stage two PCS. He would never forget that day, not as long as he lived. The words _terminal _and _incurable _were used a lot that day. He remembered thinking that everything he had done during the war, all of the things he had been forced to do – trying to kill Dumbledore, cursing Katie Bell, poisoning the Weasel, taking the Dark Mark – he had done all of those things for absolutely nothing.

Stage 2 was tremors and headaches, symptoms that could be controlled or ignored. It was easy during that stage to forget that she was terminally ill. It had been easy to forget that she had an expiration date.

Stage 3 was hell. Seizures, headaches, vomiting, and spells where she would fall asleep sporadically. She couldn't go out in public anymore; for fear that she would have a seizure or fall asleep at an inopportune time. Someone had to be with her constantly. Whenever he wasn't at work he had been by her side. The spells had come more and more frequently, until she had fallen asleep and not woken up.

Stage 4. She was sleeping now, peacefully. But once it ran its course, she would die. She would never wake up again. He had come to terms with it a long time ago. He had to. He hadn't had a choice.

What would he give to speak to his mother again? To see her walking in her gardens one more time? To have her by his side when he finally got married? To have her there when his first child was born?

His eyes prickled but he refused to cry. He was a Malfoy. Malfoy men do not cry. He took a long shuddering breath, held Hermione a little bit tighter, and pressed his lips against her forehead.

"Come with me." He released his hold on her, only to take her hand in his and pull her towards the door. She followed behind him without question, curious about what was going through his mind and where he was taking her.

He led her back upstairs and down the hall. He pointed to the first door on the right and quickly said "My bedroom." A few steps later they walked past the bedroom that she had emerged from earlier and he said "your bedroom." They continued towards the bay window. She had wondered what the two doors were on this end of the hallway. He stopped at the one on the left and swung the door open. He stepped through first and switched the light on.

She smiled to herself as she stepped into the library. Floor to ceiling books on every wall, along with several bookcases in the middle of the room were a welcome sight to her. She inhaled deeply, smelling the leather and parchment. There were two large tables with heavy wooden chairs sitting on either side of them.

She ran her fingers gently over the book bindings closest to her. She would love to have a library like this in her own home. He let her peruse the library for several long minutes. He watched her eyes light up and a smile tug at her lips as she wandered aimlessly around the room. She would get lost in that room and never emerge if he let her.

"You're welcome to read any of the books in here. It's quite an extensive collection." He took her hand again and pulled her gently towards the door. "This room might be a little too distracting for you. Maybe you should do your work over here instead?"

He led her to the door across the hall and opened it.

"Oh Merlin!" She gasped as she stepped into the largest potions lab she'd seen outside of Hogwarts. This room put her own lab at the Ministry to shame. Rows of empty tables. Scores of empty cauldrons. Shelves of potion ingredients. An entire bookcase filled with potion reference books and formulas. Immediately her eyes started to scan his book collection. Most of them she had read, but there were a few she hadn't gotten to yet.

"This is what you needed, right? Someplace safe and secure where you can do your research?" He leaned against one of the empty tables and watched her as she moved through the room. At one point in time this had been his favorite room in the house. He had spent countless hours in here studying for his potions master exams. That was before. He hadn't stepped foot in this room since the day his mother had received her diagnosis.

"This is perfect. I think you've screwed up, though, Malfoy." She smiled as she made her way back across the room to where he was standing. She stood next to him; leaning up against the same table he was leaning against, and mirrored his stance.

"I'm going to regret asking this, but please tell me. How have I screwed up, Granger?" He sighed and rolled his eyes, sure she was going to tell him there was something wrong with his lab. That he had set it up wrong, or the ingredients weren't stored in the right order, or something else equally as annoying. The first time Blaise had seen his lab, he had done the same thing. Set about telling Draco all the ways the room could be better.

"Because when all of this is over, you're never going to get rid of me. I'm in love with your house, Malfoy. I don't think I'll ever leave it." She said the words solemnly, as though she regretted every one of them. When he looked at her, he could see the glint of humor in her eye, the small smirk on her lips. She was leaning against the table, her arms crossed over her chest. Her hair was wild and curly once again, the way it should be.

He didn't answer her, he simply smirked at her. He wasn't sure how to say that he never wanted her to leave. At least, he didn't know how to say it without sounding like a creeper, and she already had one to many of those.

Abruptly she moved away from the table and left the room without another word. Draco watched her leave and ran a hand through his hair, wondering if he had done something wrong. Maybe she had been expecting him to respond to her joke? When he didn't, she must have taken it the wrong way? He sighed. He would never understand women.

He turned to go after her. As he did, though, he almost walked right into her as she made her way back into the lab. She had a small beaded bag in her hand that he didn't remember seeing before. Curious, he watched as she sat down at a table and opened the small bag. She pulled several books, notebooks and binders out of the bag and put them on the table in front of her. When she opened the first book and started reading, he knew that she had already gotten lost in her research. She had probably forgotten he was even there.

He left her there, reading a rather large book on obscure potion ingredients. As he took his shower and readied himself for the day, he couldn't help but picture her tenaciously trying to solve a problem that everyone else had just given up on. Even if she didn't find the solution in time to save his mother, there were others out there. Due to client confidentiality, he didn't know who they were, but he did know there were others. And he knew that as long as even one person was still suffering from the effects of PCS, Granger would keep looking. She would keep researching. She would scour every part of the Earth to find what she was looking for.

And maybe, just maybe, she would give his mother a second chance at life in the process.

* * *

**AN: See? I love this chapter. One of my favorite so far. What do you guys think?**

**I will be camping for the next four days. Completely off the grid. No FF. No email. No Facebook. Also, no work, which I am very much looking forward to after the week I've had! Anyway, it would be wonderful to come back on Sunday and open my email and find 100 new reviews in my inbox. :)**

**Now that you've finished reading this update, I have a rec for you. I found this little gem this morning and I couldn't stop reading. It's called "Unexpected" and you can find the link on my favorites page. **

**Have a great weekend, and thanks again for reading.**

**-mezy**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Has it really been a month since I updated? I am truly sorry for the delay. Have I ever mentioned before that I am a very clumsy person? Accident prone might be a better word for it, actually. So after my camping trip I went to visit my sister. I get out of the car, my foot slips in the mud, and my index finger on my dominant hand is crushed between my car door and the door post. Let me tell you, it is extremely difficult to write or type with a broken index finger. All is good now, though. The tip of my finger is no longer swollen. The nail itself is still black on one side and the tip is more or less numb now, but at least I am finally able to write again. **

**I would also like to thank Bex for being my beta and helping me through this chapter. The next one will be up sooner, I promise. :)**

**I had a reviewer ask me what PCS is, so just to review PCS stands for Post Cruciatas Syndrome. It is an illness that is caused by excessive exposure to the cruciatas curse. There is no cure (at this time, Hermione is working on one) and it is ultimately fatal.**

**Thank you for my readers. And I am thrilled to say that I have more than 200 reviews right now! Thank you, thank you, thank you!**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Eleven**

Blaise looked around the room in surprise. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting from the Boy Wonder's home, but he didn't expect it be old, musty and dark. The furniture was antique, as were the rugs and the draperies.

"You might think about redecorating, Potter. This place doesn't exactly scream_ Savior of the Wizarding World_."

Harry rolled his eyes before sitting heavily in his favorite armchair.

"So I've been told. Sit, Zabini. Tell me what you know about Hermione."

Blaise sat down in the chair across from him. He knew he had to be careful with the information he gave away. He had promised Granger that he would keep her safe and he intended to keep that promise. He was also curious, though. The Golden Trio was falling apart and he wanted to know why.

"I don't know much. I saw her at lunch today. She was at a muggle place called Sal's."

Harry ran his hand through his hair and mumbled to himself. He had forgotten about Sal's. It was her favorite muggle restaurant, and he had forgotten to check it.

"Was she alone?"

"No. She was with someone." Blaise lazily ran his fingers across the armrest on the chair, half expecting it to be covered in dust, but pleasantly surprised to find it clean despite its age and wear.

Harry looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"Well? Who was she with?" The look turned into a glare as he realized Zabini was not going to continue and the information would need to be dragged out of the man.

"Not Weasley." Blaise smirked as he leaned back in his chair, pulling one ankle up to rest across his other knee. "Which I found extremely odd. Especially since I overheard him telling you just this morning that they had kissed and made up, so to speak."

Harry nodded in response. He knew she wasn't back with Ron. She simply couldn't be.

"Who was it? A man? Did you recognize him?" He fired the questions off in quick succession, and then held his breath as he waited for a response.

"I really couldn't say. Let me ask you a question, though, Potter. You and Granger are still friends, right?"

"I'd like to think so. Why?" His brow crinkled as he wondered what his friendship would have to do with anything. The questions he had asked were simple enough. Why couldn't Zabini just answer them and get on with it?

"What are the chances that Granger has been seeing someone else?" Blaise asked, and then he watched Potter's reaction. His eyes widened momentarily, then his brow furrowed in confusion.

"You mean like cheating on Ron? Hermione? Not a chance in hell."

"You sound awfully sure about that."

"You don't know Hermione very well. She has this impeccable moral compass. She would never even consider cheating on anyone. If the thought ever crossed her mind, she would probably break up with him just to clear her conscious."

"Just for thinking about cheating?" That seemed highly unlikely, he thought. Everyone thought about cheating every once in a while, right?

"Sure. She would say that if you are thinking about being with someone else, your heart doesn't belong with the one you're with. She'd dump Ron faster than you can say Quid….ditch." Harry hesitated. His eyes widened in surprise as realization hit him. She really had broken up with Ron very quickly. There had been no indication that he had seen that she had been considering breaking up with him until she had actually done it.

"Son of a bitch." He ran his hands through his hair and let his head fall back against the chair. "No. That's not possible. I mean, all she does is work. When would she have had time to meet someone else?"

Blaise almost got the feeling that Potter had forgotten he was there as he thought out loud about the possibility of Granger finding someone else. That was fine with him, really. Something he said had struck a chord and got him to thinking as well. When would they have found the time? It was an excellent question. Draco worked almost as much as she did, and any spare time he had was spent at his mother's bedside. Very few people knew of Narcissa's condition, but Blaise knew that any time he needed to find his partner when they were off duty, he could be found at St. Mungo's without fail.

Damn. He might owe his friend an apology.

"Forget it, Potter. It must have been my imagination. They just seemed awfully…chummy, that's all."

Harry regarded him carefully for a long moment. He seemed to be continuing his train of thought silently now. After at least two minutes of silence he nodded his head as though he had come to some sort of conclusion.

"It doesn't matter. Whoever he is, I hope he can make her happy. She deserves it more than anyone else I know." A sudden thought crossed his mind and his nose crinkled up. "Oh Merlin, it's not you, is it?"

"What if it is, Potter?" His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward in his chair.

Harry noticed the shift in attitude. He hadn't meant to offend the other wizard, but he could understand why Zabini had taken offense.

"If it is then just…just be good to her, will you?" He sighed as he ran his hand through his hair.

"Like Weasley's been good to her?" Blaise stood up and stalked across the room to the doorway. The anger he felt in that moment surprised him. He shouldn't feel this angry. Hermione Granger was nothing to him, and she never would be. Still, the implication that he would or could treat her worse than the Weasel had. And if Potter thought that about him, what would he think when he found out it was Draco that had her affections instead?

It was enough to convince Blaise that he had made a mistake in coming here. He was nearly through the doorway when he heard a throat clear behind him. He paused and considered his action before turning around deliberately to face Potter once again.

"I have no doubt that you would be better to her than Ron ever was. I meant it as a concerned friend, not as an insult." He paused to summon a bottle of firewhiskey and a couple of glasses from the sidebar. He poured each of them three fingers of Ogden's Finest and handed one of the glasses to Blaise.

He took the glass and returned to his seat. Really he should be going, but so far Potter had only raised more questions in his mind, rather than answering any of the ones that had already been there.

"No offense, Potter, but you haven't exactly acted as the concerned friend recently. Not that I've seen anyway."

Harry sipped from his glass and stared into the amber liquid for a long moment before answering.

"I know that. Or at least, I think I know that." His brows furrowed together and one hand came up to rub against his temple. "I need to talk to Hermione. I need to make sure she's okay."

"You aren't making much sense, Potter." Blaise sipped from his glass as well while he observed the dark haired wizard that sat across from him. He looked confused about something. "Why wouldn't she be okay?"

"Something really weird happened last night. I can't explain it, I just have this awful feeling that something bad has happened to her. I know that Ron was terrible to her. I know that she was miserable the whole time they were together. I don't know why it took her so long to break up with him. I don't know why she finally did. All I really do know is that I need to see her, to make sure she's alright."

Blaise watched him for a moment longer. He had never seen Harry Potter look so lost. He couldn't be sure if the man looked like that because he was worried about his friend, or because he couldn't figure out the circumstances behind her decision to break up with the Weasel. Something he had said raised yet another question, though. He waited another long moment before asking.

"Why did you break up with the Weaselette?"

Harry's eyes shot up at the question and his brow furrowed again.

"I came home and found her in here measuring the curtains! She said we needed to redecorate before we had our engagement party!" He threw his hands into the air. "The thought of spending the rest of my life with her makes me physically ill. So I kicked her out."

The casual way that he said it, as though it was an everyday occurrence for a man to suddenly realize his significant other disgusted him, was alarming to Blaise.

"That's a little harsh. How long have you felt like that?" So he was prying now, and none of it was any of his business. He knew that. Something felt wrong, though, and he couldn't stop himself from asking. Hell, the whole situation he found himself in felt wrong. Protecting Hermione Granger. Drinking with Harry Potter. He felt like he had fallen down the damn rabbit hole.

"I have no idea." The look of confusion was back on Potter's face. "I think, maybe, I've always felt that way."

Blaise debated with himself for a good long moment. Should he ask the obvious question? Why had he dated the red headed witch for three years if he detested her so? Or should he let it go for now? He already had enough to deal with as it was with Granger, and he knew that would only get worse once the general public heard what had happened. Did he really have the time or the inclination to worry about Potter's sudden decision to break up with his girlfriend?

"Look, Potter," he drained his glass and set it down on the table with a clunk. "As much as I'm enjoying this little heart to heart, I really need to be going. Early morning and all that. Don't worry too much about Granger. She knows how to take care of herself. Besides that, I might have overheard her telling her friend that she needed to disappear for a few days. Wherever she is, she's safe."

He stood up and walked away without waiting for a response. Once again he was at the doorway when he heard a throat clearing.

"When you see her, tell her that I'm on her side and that I'm sorry for not being there for her." Harry hadn't moved from his chair. He wasn't even looking at Blaise. He was staring at his glass of firewhiskey, swirling it around and around. He could feel the other man's eyes on him, questioning why he would be seeing Hermione to relay his message. He sighed deeply, but never raised his eyes. "That's not a conversation you would have overheard. 'Mione would have muffled the table so that no one else would hear what was being discussed."

Harry raised his glass to his mouth and tipped it back, swallowing the contents in one shot.

"Nice catch, Potter." He laughed shortly, cursing himself for making such a stupid mistake. Potter was right. She had cast a _muffliato_ charm as soon as she sat down at the table with them.

"Like I said, Zabini, just be good to her."

Blaise appraised Harry for a long moment. The concern for his friend was etched across his face. His green eyes showed that concern as well, but they also showed a hint of sadness and confusion. Perhaps he didn't understand why Granger hadn't turned to him for help either? He was torn between keeping his promise to Hermione, and easing this man's fears. He would know in two days anyway. The whole wizarding world would know. The presses were probably already printing the story.

He released a deep sigh and thought briefly about Pansy. How would he feel if she was hurt by someone he considered a friend, and he had to read about it in the newspaper without any warning at all? He would be ready to kill someone. He knew in his heart that Potter would feel the same way on Monday morning. And it wouldn't take the Auror long to realize that he had known the whole time they had sat together and talked. He would be the one Potter would come after on Monday.

He closed his eyes briefly as he realized that he had to give the man something. He couldn't give details, of course, but he had to give him enough information that he could figure it out for himself.

"She came to me on a strictly professional basis. She needed to report a crime to the MLE. I took her report, I turned it in to the Minister, and I made sure she was somewhere safe until the perpetrator can be apprehended. Basically, I followed standard procedure. I'll give her your message when I see her, but I can't tell you anything else."

He watched as Harry's green eyes blinked closed slowly. Color drained from his face as he realized the implications of what he had just been told. Then a hardness set into his eyes and his jaw. He nodded once, briefly, at Blaise, but he didn't say another word. Really, what else was there to say? The unspoken truth that Ron was the perpetrator had been received loud and clear.

Blaise waited just a few heartbeats before turning and leaving the room. He didn't stop until he was standing outside in the fresh air. There he paused just long enough to take a deep breath before apparating to his home, a sizeable flat on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. His anti-apparition wards prevented him from apparating straight into his flat. Instead his feet landed steadily on the balcony outside of his third floor entry way. He entered the empty flat, his footsteps echoing loudly across the hardwood floors.

It had been a long day so he wasted no time before going to his bedroom, stripping out of his clothes and falling naked onto his black silk sheets. Morning would come soon, and he had to meet the Minister first thing to gather Granger's research.

He slipped into the darkness of sleep, welcomed after the revelations of the day, and did not stir again until the sun was shining on his face and the alarm clock was blaring in his ear.

* * *

Hermione spent several hours on Sunday morning reading through one of the books she had brought home for the weekend, but again she found nothing useful. Her head was starting to hurt, a dull thumping pain right behind her eye, when she closed the leather bound tome with a sharp thud.

She lifted her hand to massage her temple and noticed that her hand was shaking. It was not a little quiver like she had experienced before when her blood sugar would drop. No. This was something different altogether. Her arm, from her elbow down, was jerking uncontrollably. Her eyes were wide as she watched her body move without thought or permission from her brain. After a long moment of being transfixed by the movement, she grabbed the offending arm with her opposite hand and forced it to lie still against the table. She held it there until she could no longer feel the muscles twitching beneath her hand. Then, only then, did she remove her hand and stare at her now still arm.

She took a shaky breath and released it, only then noticing that the dull thumping headache had transformed into a sharp pain. She quickly dimmed the lights in the lab and forced herself to remain calm as she opened her beaded bag and pulled out a pain relief potion.

The blue liquid slid easily down her throat. She had to wait several minutes for any relief from the searing pain, though. Even then, the whole experience had left her shaken to the core. She remained sitting there in the dark, her eyes staring down at her hands, her breathing ragged and her eyes filled with unshed tears.

After many long minutes, she brought the lights back up in the lab, opened her beaded bag once again, and pulled out the last remaining folder. She opened it and scanned across the data before adding a new entry at the bottom of the list. Then she watched with trepidation as the arithmancy formulas recalculated themselves based on the new information.

The result that was staring back at her had her stomach churning. She slammed the folder shut and dropped it back into the beaded bag, out of sight but certainly not out of mind.

She tried to go back to work. She opened the next book in her pile and scanned through the list of ingredients three times before she realized she hadn't read a single word. With disgust, she pushed the book away and stood up from her seat at the table. Her eyes kept glancing back to her beaded bag, to the folder that she knew was in there. She walked away from the table and went to stand by the window. The sun had been shining, but now clouds were moving in and she could feel the rain in the air. It was coming.

She glanced back at the beaded bag. This time, from this angle, she could see the leather bound journal peeking out from between two rather large books that would most likely not hold the answers she was looking for. The journal, though, that could very well hold something that she desperately needed right then.

A distraction.

She retrieved the book from its hiding place and returned to the window. There was a beautiful view of a park on the other side of the street. Hermione sat down in the window seat and opened the journal.

"_Thank you for your help yesterday. For setting up the meeting for me." _It seemed a little simplistic, maybe. But she still felt the need to thank him. She waited several long moments for a response. She had nearly given up when she finally saw the cover begin to glow.

"_Don't mention it. Will you tell me now what it was about? Are you okay?"_

"_I'd rather not talk about it." _She sighed deeply. She didn't want to talk about what had happened anymore. She just wanted to move on. She just wanted him to distract her. She closed her eyes and swallowed thickly as a random thought floated across her mind. A distraction.

"_I had a dream last night. It seemed so real."_ It had felt real. Or maybe she just wanted it to be real. She looked down at her arm and sighed. It would never be real.

"_A good dream, or a bad dream?"_

He hit the nail on the head with that one. Was it a good dream? Or was it meant to tease her with something she would never have?

"_That depends on how you look at it. It felt like a very good dream at the time. I'm not so sure now."_

She knew he would want more details and almost smacked herself for even bringing it up. Then again, she wanted a distraction, and she would much rather be thinking about her dream than about her recent...episode.

"_I was standing outside, watching the ocean. A man was behind me. I could feel him there, even before he approached." _She shivered slightly as she remembered the way he felt when she leaned against him. She closed her eyes and savored the memory with a small smile on her face. When she opened her eyes she was surprised to see that he had replied to her.

"_Were you scared by him?"_

She smirked to herself before responding.

"_Scared? No. Excited. Intrigued. But not scared."_

There was a long pause before his words began to appear on the parchment in front of her.

"_I see. It was that kind of dream. Please continue. And don't leave out any details."_

She could practically see him raising his eyebrows suggestively. She laughed out loud then. It was a beautiful laugh that echoed around the lab and lifted the gloom she had been feeling right off of her shoulders.

"_It wasn't THAT kind of dream!" _She was still laughing as she wrote out her reply. _"It was just a kiss! A wonderful kiss, I grant you, but nothing scandalous."_

"_What a shame. Scandalous is much more exciting."_

She was still smiling as she remembered the way his lips had felt against hers.

"_It felt so real. When I woke up I could still smell him. I could still taste him. It's torturous. To know that he is so close, but that it can never happen. Not really. Not outside of my dreams."_

"_You have no idea how badly I want the one you dream of to be me."_

She smiled again as a warm flush covered her body. She knew she needed to figure out who she was talking too. She hadn't put much thought into it before, but she really did need to know. And a part of her, a large part if she was being honest, wanted her mystery writer to be the same man in her dream last night. The same man that had held her as she cried. The same man that had offered her his home, his library, his potion lab, and his protection.

"_Maybe it was. For what it's worth, it was the person that I imagine you to be."_

She stared out the window, looking but not really seeing the world behind the glass. Her heart was thumping loudly in her chest and warm energy was coursing through her body. She felt as though she had just confessed something important to this man, and was waiting anxiously for his reply. When she finally blinked her eyes away from the thoughts that were running rampant through her mind, she looked down and saw his reply.

"_And who do you imagine me to be? When you write to me, who do you picture in your mind? Reading your words? Whispering in your ear?"_

She felt a shudder of anticipation go through her body. She had to stop this. She had to stop it now.

"_And what if the person I imagine I'm talking to is not really you at all? What if I'm imagining talking to your best friend, or your worst enemy? I would only crush your spirit by telling you. So no, I think I'll keep that bit of information to myself."_

She smiled to herself, knowing that he wouldn't be able to argue with her logic. She imagined for a moment that Blaise was the person holding the journal, and his reaction when she told him she fantasized about Malfoy when they spoke.

"_You make a fair point, as always. Let me know if there is anything else I can help you with. I am here if you need me."_

She glanced around at the lab. She thought of the bed she had woken up on that morning, just a few short hours ago, and the bathtub she had soaked in. She remembered the library across the hallway and she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

"_Don't worry. I'm being well taken care of. Everything I could possibly ever need is right here at my fingertips. Okay, maybe not everything, but close enough."_

"_Good. You deserve to be spoiled."_

His response came quickly. She could almost hear him whispering those words in her ear. The thought sent a shiver of electricity down her spine. It took her a long moment to respond as she savored the imagined intimacy of the moment. When she looked back down at the parchment, more words had already started to appear.

"_I have one question, though. If you don't mind, that is. Why Zabini and Malfoy? Why not Potter? Or Wood? Or Lovegood even?"_

Her breath caught in her throat at his question. It was a fair question. Most people would expect her to go to Harry first if she were in trouble. She knew better, though. She knew that she couldn't trust him. Not with something like this. She wasn't sure how to explain it though.

She stared at the book for several minutes, forming her thoughts, then reforming them before she put the quill to parchment. Finally she closed her eyes, took a breath, and started writing.

"_Harry changed after the war. Our relationship changed drastically. I knew it would. It had to, really. It took me a long time to really understand. The friendship we had in school wasn't real. He needed my help to defeat Voldemort. Once he had, he didn't need my help anymore, did he? So no, I didn't ask Harry to help me."_

Her hand was shaking by the time she finished. She had never told anyone that before. How desperate was she for companionship that she was now telling a virtual stranger?

"_Potter told you he didn't need you anymore and that he had faked being your friend just to get your help in the war?"_

She read his words through several times. Each time it sounded more callous than the last. She could feel tears pricking at her eyes, but she refused to cry. This was something she had come to accept two years ago. It didn't need to be revisited. She didn't need to shed any more tears over Harry Potter.

Despite that, she did need to correct him on one thing. She picked the quill back up and started writing yet again.

"_He didn't actually say it, no. But I can read between the lines. He stopped talking to me or hanging out with me. He wouldn't help me with my search for my parents. He didn't even say anything comforting when I found out..."_

The words stopped abruptly, like someone had just smacked her in the back of the head and told her to shut the fuck up. Oh Merlin! Was she really about to tell this man her biggest secret?

She dropped the quill and covered her mouth with her hand. What was wrong with her all of a sudden? She had spilled the focus of her research to Draco that morning, and now she was about to tell him…

She picked the quill back up and wrote out lamely, _"I knew he wouldn't help me."_

She wondered if she had given away too much. She chewed on her fingernail as she waited, letting out a breath when she saw his reply.

"_Potter is a jackass. That still doesn't answer the question, though? Why Malfoy and Zabini?"_

She sighed in relief. He didn't ask the obvious question. He wasn't going to pry. Not into that, anyway. So maybe she would answer his question, as a thank you. Even this answer, though, was deeply personal. She wondered again who was on the receiving end of her entries before she started writing out her answer.

"_Ever since the war I haven't been able to stand being touched. I can tolerate it from certain people, but that doesn't mean that I like it, or that I'm comfortable with it. That day at the Ministry, when I passed out and Malfoy caught me; that day I felt so safe. And later he defended me against Ron. I just...when I knew I needed help, he was the first person I thought of."_

She watched the words disappear into the parchment and she shook her head slowly from side to side. She had given away too much information again. All she really needed to say was because she felt safe with them. She didn't need to say the rest of that.

What would he think of her reasoning? Would he think it was silly? Or girly? Or completely illogical?

What if the person on the other end of the journal was Blaise? Would he tell Draco that was her reasoning?

Oh Merlin. What if it was Draco himself holding the other journal? And she just told him...

_Fuck!_

She slammed the journal closed and dropped it on the closest table.

Her feet started to move and she began to pace back and forth across the room. She had already determined it was possible that Malfoy was the person she was communicating with. In the back of her mind, she could even see him sitting at the desk in his study, reading the words she had written.

Deep in her subconscious she wanted it to be him.

She needed to know, though. If it was him or not. Not only to satisfy her own curiosity, but because if she was not talking to Draco Malfoy through the journal, then she may have just made a huge judgment in error. She may have just given an unknown source a pretty good idea as to her whereabouts.

She picked the journal up off the table, and before she could change her mind she swept out of the potion lab and went in search of the man that had given her sanctuary.

**AN: So? Feel free to leave me a note and let me know what you think. Or don't. I still appreciate you reading. :) **


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: I think it was a shorter wait this time. Maybe. I'm actually trying to get a little bit ahead, so this chapter is done, the next is written and is being checked by my new wonderful beta, Bex. Hopefully I can get back into posting once a week? **

**As always, thanks to all of my readers. I couldn't do any of this without you all. :)**

**Okay, things are starting to pick up a little, so hold on my lovelies.**

**The Journal**

**Chapter 12**

Hermione made it all the way to the staircase before she started questioning herself. Was she really going to go confront Malfoy? What was she going to say to him? Should she ask him outright if he was the one she was writing to? Or should she tell him that she's been writing to someone and may have given away her location?

She stopped halfway down the stairs. There was a window on the small landing that overlooked a lovely courtyard. The yard had a black iron fence surrounding it with matching benches placed along the edges. A tree with brightly colored leaves stood in the center of the yard, and a statue of a mermaid stood in the corner with a stream of water flowing from her lips into a small pond. It was a very serene looking courtyard. She wondered if it belonged to Malfoy. If it did, would she be able to sit out there and still be protected? It would be a lovely place to sit and read, after all.

She sighed to herself. How long would she be protected here if she had unknowingly told the wrong person that she trusted Draco with her life?

With renewed purpose, she continued down the stairs and only stopped when she was standing in front of the door to his study. The door was open, but he was nowhere to be found. She checked the sitting room, the kitchen and the library. With growing concern, she even knocked on his bedroom door. Would he have left without telling her?

When she didn't receive a response, she returned to the lab and began pacing again. Of course he could have left without telling her where he was going. This was his home, after all. He didn't have to tell her anything. But still, common courtesy would tell you to let your houseguest know if you were leaving, right? How long had he been gone? Where did he go? Was he in danger?

Her eyes fell to the journal. There had not been a response to her last entry. She wondered why. Was he lost for words? Or maybe shocked beyond belief? Or plotting how he could track her down now that he knew who she trusted?

She knew she needed to get a grip on herself. Worrying about Draco wouldn't bring him home faster. And worrying about her mystery writer was a lesson in futility. She had already decided to trust him, whoever he was. She trusted him when she asked him to set up a meeting with Malfoy in the first place. So what if he now knew how much she trusted the blond Slytherin?

With that thought in mind, she sat back down and opened a new book. Worrying would solve nothing, but research could solve many of her problems.

* * *

Draco walked through the halls of St. Mungo's with a purposeful stride. He had received a message from his mother's healer. Without a second thought he had floo'd to the hospital to see what could have been so urgent. Whatever it was, he figured it couldn't be good news. He was right; it wasn't good news at all. Gripped tightly in his hands were Narcissa's latest test results. She was declining faster than Mrs. Parkinson had. The healer estimated she only had a week left rather than the two they had originally predicted. He read through the results one more time before angrily stuffing the parchment into his pocket and walking through the exit.

He emerged in Muggle London and blended well into the foot traffic. He dressed as a muggle most of the time anymore, so he didn't need to worry about changing out of wizarding robes.

His feet beat a steady rhythm against the pavement as he walked. He breathed in the fresh air. He took notice of the people walking around him. There was a man with a toddler holding on to his hand. There was a woman with an infant in her arms. There was a teenage couple holding hands and giggling as they walked. All around him there was life. So why did he feel so dead inside?

One week. Seven days. Hermione would never have the cure by then. If she ever had a cure. Maybe there was never intended to be a cure for this madness. Why had he bothered to hope? It just made the realization of the inevitable that much harder. Why did she let him hope? She had to know that it was an impossible task.

He sat down on a park bench and allowed his eyes to wander across the small area. He didn't know where he was. This park wasn't familiar to him at all. There was a cute little deli across the street, and a small movie theatre next door. There were several apartment buildings situated around the park and a small fountain shaped like a tree sitting in front of what looked to be a library or a large book store. It was all quite peaceful and serene, despite being in the middle of a bustling city.

He sat there for a long time. The thoughts bouncing around in his head were enough to drive him mad. One minute he would be angry with Hermione for placing that seed of hope into his mind. The next he would be looking around the park and thinking that she would love it there. Then he would be thinking that his mother would never again walk in a park, or enjoy the feel of the sun on her face.

Despair threatened to overtake him. Slowly he felt himself sinking into the black pit that could easily consume a man if he let it. Draco was always a self-aware person, though, and he was not going to let himself fall into such a vulnerable position. Especially not in public. He shook his head quickly to dispel the negative thoughts that had lodged themselves there. He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath before opening his eyes and scanning his surroundings once again. He needed to find an alleyway that he could apperate from.

As his eyes scanned over the perimeter of the park, a woman's scream tore through the relative silence of the area. Following her scream, there were other cries as well. A few people began yelling for help, while others started yelling "fire!" over and over again.

It took him only a moment to find the source of the sudden chaos. An apartment building across the way was on fire. The flames were an angry orange-red color that licked the sides of the building and reached into the sky above. They spread quickly, almost purposefully, through the building. The muggles screamed as the fire consumed the building. Draco just stood there and stared at it for many, many heartbeats. The fire seemed to be eating the building. The brick building. The flames were ferocious.

His breath caught in his throat as he realized that he had only seen fire behave in this manner one other time. Only once, three years ago, when he was trapped in the room of requirement and one of his lackeys had cast the spell that ultimately destroyed him. Fiendfyre.

He knew that was what he was seeing, even if it didn't quite make sense. This was a muggle neighborhood. Who would have had the audacity to cast such a dark spell amongst muggles?

That final thought was the one that spurred him into motion. The muggles were all focused on the burning building. None of them noticed that he had discreetly cast a patronus and sent it on the way to the Ministry of Magic. He would need help with this one and he wasn't too proud to ask for backup.

He could hear the sirens from the fire trucks making their way towards the building. He moved swiftly and discreetly towards the building. He cast a simple charm so the muggles wouldn't notice his movements and a bubble head charm so he would have clean air to breathe, and then he entered the building.

He moved quickly through the downstairs flats and found no one. He moved on to the second floor. There he found a boy and a girl, both of them around eleven or twelve years old, huddled together on the floor, breathing through a wet towel. He helped them out of the building, and then went back up to the third floor. He could hear someone yelling through the wall, but the roar of the fire blocked out what he was saying. There were wards around the flat. Draco could feel them now that he was standing outside the door. Someone magical lived in the flat that was now being consumed by fiendfyre.

The fire itself was intensely hot. The walls all around were rolling with fire. The floors were starting to crack as the support beams of the building weakened. He knew he needed to move fast; otherwise the entire building would collapse in on top of itself. He broke through the wards quickly and kicked the door in with one swift kick. Considering the wall splintered on one side and crashed to the ground, he wasn't sure it was his kick that knocked the door in, or the weight of the ceiling preparing to collapse.

There was a man standing in the middle of the room. He wore black robes and a hood over his face. Fire shot from his wand. Draco barely managed to dodge the fireball. He spun around quickly and aimed his wand at the man.

"_Stupify!_"

His curse was deflected by the hooded figure and a duel between the two of them began. They circled each other and shot off curse after curse. The dance would have continued, too, if the ceiling hadn't begun to fall on them.

Through the hole to the outside world they could hear wizards trying to contain the fiendfyre.

"Looks like reinforcements have arrived." He smirked, but did not let his guard down.

"Looks like we'll have to continue this some other time then, Malfoy," the hooded wizard swore. "_Reducto!_"

The curse went wide, missing Draco but hitting the brick mantel over the fireplace. Shards of brick sprayed through the air. A rather large piece hit Draco in the temple, causing him to stumble backwards. He could feel the blood running down his face. He turned his wand back on the hooded figure, just in time to see the man apparate out of the flat.

"Fuck!" He yelled into the now empty flat. He ran his hand through his hair, only to wince in pain as he hit the side of his temple. A quick look at his hand showed that it was covered in blood. A lot of blood. That brick must have hit him harder than he thought it did. He took a stumbling step towards the door. It only took him a few seconds to realize he wouldn't make it out of the building on his own two feet. Not only was his head pounding now, he could feel the blood running out of it. He couldn't concentrate to keep the bubble head charm going, either, so now the smoke from the fire was choking him, which only added to the lightheadedness that he was feeling as a result of the blood loss.

He had to get home. Now. He couldn't apparate. Not in his current condition.

The fireplace itself was still more or less intact. He would just have to count on it still working correctly. There was floo powder in a small jar next to the hearth. He pinched some between his fingers and dropped it into the fire. He breathed a small sigh of relief when green flames erupted. He stumbled into the flames and called out his destination. The flames whisked him away only moments before the rest of the ceiling collapsed into the small flat, causing a chain reaction that resulted in the building itself crashing down. It finally settled into nothing more than a pile of rubble.

* * *

Hermione read through the book she had selected quickly, skimming over most of the ingredients that she had already researched and discarded. Two hours had passed when she heard the floo activate. Before she had started reading, she had set a charm to let her know when someone came through. The noise startled her out of her research, as she had intended it to. She immediately jumped out of her seat and hurried downstairs.

By the time she rushed into the sitting room, Draco had already fallen out of the green flames. She found him lying on the floor, struggling to breathe.

"Oh Merlin!" She rushed across the room and knelt beside him as she began to assess his injuries. His hair was matted together with drying blood. There was a gash along his temple that was oozing blood. His eyes were open, but not focused. His clothes reeked of the smell of smoke.

"What happened?" She demanded, but she didn't expect a response from him. He was clinging to consciousness as it was. That's why she was so startled when his hand gripped her shirt and he choked out the words "…fire…block…floo…Maya…knee…"

She couldn't understand half of his words, but she thought she had the gist of his message. She blocked off the floo immediately. A million questions were running through her mind, but they would all have to wait. First she really needed to attend to his injuries.

Hermione had always had a strong aversion to blood. The war had helped to lessen the effect that the sight typically had on her. She had learned through experience to look past the sticky red substance to the injury itself. She had also learned the quickest and most effective way to clean and care for wounds such as this. The longer she had to look at the blood, the more likely it would be that she would break into a cold sweat, find it difficult to breathe, and have her vision black out on her.

She took a deep cleansing breath, summoned her beaded bag from the lab upstairs, and set to work. First she cleaned the blood from his hair and face. Then she inspected the gash. After doing a couple of diagnostic spells, she determined the gash was caused by something striking him rather than a curse or a hex. That meant she could use magic to heal him without having to worry about residual magic interfering with the healing spells.

She looked to his eyes before starting and was surprised to see him looking back at her. His eyes were glossy and squinted in pain, but he was obviously awake and aware of his surroundings.

"I'm going to heal this now. It will likely hurt. I can put you to sleep if you'd like?" She spoke gently. As she talked, she lifted her hand to push away the strands of blond hair that were falling over his eyes. At her touch, his eyes fluttered shut and he released a shallow sigh.

"Yes." His voice was weak. She had to watch his lips just to figure out his words. "Asleep."

She quirked an eyebrow at him in question. Most of the men she knew were macho, egotistical masochists that would rather act all tough than admit they were in pain.

"That's a first," she muttered to herself. She could have sworn she saw him smirk at her right before she cast the spell that would put him into a deep sleep.

She took a moment to close her eyes and ground herself before she raised her wand once again and began meticulously mending the wound together. It was a long and tedious process. By the time she had placed the last stitch, she was mentally and magically exhausted. Her hands were shaking from exertion when she pulled the dittany out of her bag and placed several drops on the mended skin to prevent scarring. She put the dittany away and took out a vial of blood replenishing potion. Carefully, she tilted his head back and poured the brown liquid down his throat.

She was tired, so very, very tired. Her eyelids fluttered several times and she knew she needed sleep. She was completely drained. She managed to mutter one final spell before her eyes closed completely and she collapsed onto the floor next to Draco.

"_Rennervate._"

Draco's eyes opened slowly first. It took him only a moment to realize he was lying on the floor of his sitting room. It took him longer to remember why. He raised his hand tentatively to his temple, only to feel smooth skin beneath his fingertips. He was astonished to find the large gash was gone, and if it wasn't for the dried blood on his hand he would have thought that he had imagined the whole thing.

He rolled slowly to his side and found himself face to face with Hermione. She was lying on the floor next to him. Her brown curls had been pulled up into a bun with only a few falling down across her face. Draco slowly lifted his hand again, this time to move the stray hair and push it back over her shoulder. As his fingers barely brushed across her smooth skin, he felt a jolt of electricity shoot through his arm. He froze in place as he fought the urge to touch her more. Slowly he withdrew his hand. As he did, her eyes fluttered open once again.

"Feel better?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper. He got the feeling that she didn't have the energy for anything louder.

"I do. Thank you. You just saved my life." He kept his voice low, for some reason not wanting to break the silence in the room.

"Now we're even." She smiled a small smile and let her eyes fall closed once again. "Why did you let me put you to sleep?"

Draco had to strain to hear her words. Of all the questions she could have asked him, or the questions she should have asked him, that wasn't one he was expecting. He hesitated in answering her. Why had he let her put him out? He had left himself extremely vulnerable by doing just that.

Her breathing evened out and he felt sure that she was asleep. He couldn't resist the need to touch her any longer, so he ran his fingers lightly across her arm until his hand was resting on her shoulder.

"Hermione?" he asked her quietly. Her eyes moved, but her eyelids remained closed.

"Mmm." She seemed to relax under his touch and shifted her body closer to his. Her hand lazily moved from its resting place on the floor to lie against his chest. He felt sure she could feel his heart beating a mile a minute.

"Maya," she mumbled. Draco frowned as he tried to figure out what she meant by that.

"What?" He knew she was falling asleep and could only hope that she would answer him before she succumbed.

She sighed heavily and lifted her hand from his chest to the side of his face. He loved the feel of her hand against his skin. He nearly moaned in pleasure at the feel of it.

"You called me Maya earlier." Her words were slurred and heavy with exhaustion. Her eyes remained closed as though she didn't have the energy to open them. Her hand was lying across his neck and her thumb was moving back and forth lightly across his jaw.

More than anything in that moment he wanted to lean forward and brush his lips against hers. He wondered briefly if she would respond given her current status of being more asleep than she was awake. He did slide a little closer to her and placed his hand on her waist. It briefly crossed his mind that they should get up off the floor of his sitting room, but honestly there wasn't anywhere else he would rather be at that moment.

"Did you like that? Maya?" His voice sounded rough even to his own ears.

"MmHm. Yes."

Draco groaned to himself as her response went straight to his cock. His hand curled around her waist and pulled her closer so their bodies were pressed against each other. She didn't resist him, in fact she seemed to relax even further into his arms.

"You didn't answer my question. Why did you let me put you to sleep?" Her words were a little clearer, though still heavy.

He breathed deeply, inhaling her beautiful scent and letting himself relax beside her. She hadn't pushed him away. She hadn't told him to leave her alone. Whatever he was feeling for her in that moment, maybe she was feeling the same way? He took another shaky breath before leaning a little closer, placing his lips right beside her ear and whispering his answer.

"Because with you, Maya, I feel safe."

He could practically feel her body shudder against him. He didn't think he could resist any longer. He dipped his head a little lower and let his lips brush against the skin just below her ear.

She moaned softly against his chest. Her fingers gripped his shirt and her head rolled back slightly to give him better access. He let his tongue drag across her pulse point before kissing her gently one more time.

"Oh fuck. Draco." She practically panted against his chest.

A small voice in the back of his mind was telling him to stop while he was ahead. She was dead tired, completely drained from healing his wound. He was recuperating. Neither one of them was really up to carrying through. Reluctantly he released her neck, placing one small kiss on her temple before lying his head down beside hers.

She sighed deeply and relaxed even further into his embrace. He couldn't see it, but she had a small smile on her lips as she drifted off to sleep in his arms. He listened to her breathing as it evened out. Slowly, the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest against his lulled him into sleep as well. Soon the two of them were sound asleep, wrapped around each other and completely oblivious to the world around them.

**AN: Awe. What did you think? Please leave me a review! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. **


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: I hope I didn't lose too many of you on the last chapter. If you all were expecting nothing but fluffiness, sorry to disappoint. All I can say is have faith in me and keep reading. Hopefully you won't be disappointed in the outcome.**

**Big, huge thanks to Bex for being my beta. She's amazing.**

**This chapter is a little dark and sad. You have been warned.**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Thirteen**

The scene was a bit of organized chaos when Blaise arrived. The apartment building was being consumed by fiendfyre. There were several Aurors and MLE agents that had arrived before him that were battling the flames. Others were trying to contain the muggles that were milling around. There would be a lot of memories that would need modified by the end of the day.

He saw Theo Nott and Luna Lovegood fighting the fire and making good headway towards the front door of the building. He started towards them so he could help. He was in the middle of the street, just meters away from them, when he was stopped by a young girl with frizzy blonde hair and smudges of ash across her face. Her blue eyes were brimming over with tears and she was clutching a teddy bear in her arms.

"Mister!" She pulled on his shirt sleeve and stepped in front of him so he had no choice but to stop and look down at her. "You have to save the man in the building. All these people showed up, but no one has gone in to save him!"

Blaise looked at the building once again. The flames were an angry red color and thick smoke rolled out of every window. The sound of beams cracking could be heard above the roar of the fire. If there was anyone inside the building, chances were he hadn't survived.

The young girl tugged on his sleeve again.

"Please help him. He saved me and my brother. You have to save him." Tears were rolling down her dirty face now, making tracks through the soot.

Blaise really wasn't sure what to do in this situation. He wasn't much of a 'kid' person. He supposed he could just wipe out her memory of the man. That way she would never remember the man that had saved her.

"Ignore her. She doesn't know what she's talking about. I think she inhaled too much smoke in there." A young boy walked up next to them and took the little girls arm in his hand. "Come on, Wendy."

"I do know what I saw, William!" Wendy pulled her arm away from the boy and stomped her foot. "It was a man with white hair and a fishbowl on his head so he could breathe! And he led us down the stairs through the smoke so we could get out!"

Blaise felt his heartbeat stop in that moment. Could the man this little girl saw have been Draco? He looked back at the building quickly, just in time to see a piece of the ceiling collapse. The original emergency call had come from his partner. As he glanced around the scene, he realized that he didn't see Draco anywhere.

"What you're saying is crazy, Wendy! How would a fishbowl on your head help you to breathe? It would just fill up with smoke!" William was pulling on his sister's arm again, trying to get her to follow him over to where their mother sat on a park bench, watching their home go up in smoke.

Blaise watched the siblings bickering back and forth for a long moment before he figured out what had happened. Draco must have used a repellant charm that would mask his presence from non-magical people. The boy had no recollection of seeing Draco because he was a muggle through and through. The girl, though, she must have been a muggleborn witch. She was only nine or ten years old, so she wouldn't know it yet. In the next year or two, she would be receiving her letter from Hogwarts. He could almost guarantee it.

"Yeah, well, you also think you saw someone shooting fireballs out of a stick. You're crazy, Wendy! You're always seeing things that aren't there!" William had forgotten all about Blaise and had even released his sister's arm to throw his hands in the air.

"I did see him start the fire! He was trying to get into Miss Minney's flat and she didn't open the door so he made it catch fire."

They weren't talking to him anymore, not really, but he still heard every word. If what she was saying was true, this young girl, this muggleborn witch who knew nothing of magic, had seen the wizard that set loose the fiendfyre. He was torn between going into the building after his partner, and taking the girl somewhere quiet where they could talk and he could try to piece together what had happened.

He was in the midst of deciding when he heard a loud holler from Theo. He turned quickly back towards the blaze just as a loud crack echoed from the center of the building.

The following few moments seemed to happen in slow motion and all at once. The building caved in on itself. As the floors collapsed, the brick walls tumbled. Blaise only had seconds to react. He turned on his heel, scooped Wendy under one arm and William under the other. The three of them fell to the ground with Blaise huddled over top of the kids, protecting them as well as he could.

The sound of the building crashing to the ground filled his ears. It was a cacophony of crashing brick and mortar as well as screams of terror. Adrenalin was pumping through him even as the wall of red-hot bricks fell on top of them.

Agonizing pain filled his body. He could feel the little girl, Wendy, sobbing against his chest. Her little hands gripped his clothing, trying to escape from his grasp. He couldn't let her go, though. They were trapped. He wanted to tell her to calm down, to relax, that everything would be okay. He wanted to tell her those things, but he knew that he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to lie to her. Not in that moment. Not when he knew her brother was lying next to her and was completely still.

He pushed his pain aside. He would never be able to insure they survived if he focused on the mind-numbing pain radiating from his crushed legs or severely burnt flesh. Instead he needed to think of a solution. Of course, his first thought was that he needed his wand. His wand, which was stowed safely in his holster, strapped to his arm and pinned to the ground underneath Wendy.

He tried to take a deep breath, but the air was full of dust and smoke. He knew he needed to get them out of there quickly before they suffocated to death.

As he had been thinking through their situation and trying to come up with a plan, Wendy had slowly stopped crying. When her sobs abated, the silence within their small bubble became intense. Blaise strained to hear movement on the other side of the rubble, but heard nothing.

"Wendy?" His voice was merely a whisper in the silence. He still felt her jump a little at the sudden sound of his voice.

"Yes?" Her voice was shaky and thick with tears, but he could tell she was trying to be brave.

"I need to try to get help, but I need my wand to do it. Can you help me get it?"

"Is it a wand like the Fairly Oddparents have? Can it do magic?" Wendy sounded less scared and he even felt her relax a little bit.

"It can. And right now you're lying on it." He flexed his hand against her back to emphasize that she was lying on his arm. "If you can lift up just a little bit, I might be able to slide my arm out from under you."

"I don't know if I can, Mister." A touch of panic was starting to creep back into her voice.

"Blaise. You can call me Blaise. Please just try. We'll both try to move at the same time, okay?"

"Okay." She didn't seem very convinced, but she had at least agreed to try.

"On the count of three then. One. Two. Three."

Wendy was able to pull herself up only a few centimeters. It was enough for Blaise to slide his arm over so it was no longer under her back. She settled back down, this time with her back against the ground and Blaise' arm lying beside her rather than under her.

"We did it." Wendy was smiling as she said it, sure that they would be saved now.

"We did," he managed to assure her through gritted teeth. Their slight movement served to intensify the pain that was lancing through his back and legs. He took a moment to catch his breath and to mentally numb the pain he was feeling.

"I need you to see if you can reach my wand now. It's on my arm, just under my shirt sleeve."

Wendy didn't argue with him this time. With his arm no longer under her, she had a little bit more room to move underneath the man that had saved her. She released the death grip that she had on his robes and shifted her weight slightly so she could reach his arm easier. Pain shot through her leg and she gasped in surprise at the searing force of it.

"Wendy? Are you okay?" Blaise's own pain was forgotten as he heard the girl cry out.

"It's my leg. It hurts!" She squeezed her eyes closed for a long moment until the pain subsided. Then she continued trying to reach his arm to find his wand. He was only mildly surprised when he felt her small hand against the bare skin of his wrist.

"You will make a fine Gryffindor one day, Wendy." He chuckled at the brave little girl that was ignoring the pain in her leg to try to reach his wand.

"That's the same thing Miss Minney said. What's that even mean?" Her fingers were getting closer to the tip of his wand. She was having trouble reaching and was trying to turn her torso without moving her leg, without having much luck.

"It just means you are very brave." Blaise braced himself for the pain he knew would come before lifting his body a bit more against the bricks and giving her only a few more millimeters of space to move in.

"I got it!" Her fingers closed around the finely crafted wand and a breeze seemed to blow through the small space they were in. If Blaise needed confirmation that this girl was a witch, he had just gotten it.

"It seems my wand likes you, Wendy." He smiled to himself, knowing that she wouldn't understand the significance until much, much later. And also knowing that his wand had never accepted anyone but himself.

"What do I do now?" Her voice was whispered and excited and a little bit terrified.

"You need to slide it into my hand if you can."

Slowly she inched the wand upwards through her fingers until his grasping hand had closed around it. When he finally had it in position, he sighed in relief. They may actually live through this after all.

His movements were jerky, his wand work not at all smooth like it should be, and the pain he was feeling made it hard to concentrate on a happy memory, but after two tries he finally was able to produce a weak patronus in the shape of a great dane. The silvery dog lit up the darkness of their little cubby hole under the brick for a brief moment before it ran straight through the rubble and delivered its message to anyone that would listen to it.

"That was so cool. What else can you do? Can you move the brick so we can get out of here?"

The young girl was practically vibrating with excitement at the thought of getting out from under the rubble of their apartment building.

"I'm too weak to do any more from here, I'm afraid. Now we wait. Someone will find us."

Wendy sobered almost immediately. She thought for sure the man would be able to get them out of there if he just had his wand. Now he had his wand, and he still couldn't get them out? All he had done was make a useless dog out of smoke! What good would that do them?

"I'm not weak. Sometimes I make things move just by thinking about it. I don't mean to do it, but it happens. William thinks I'm weird. Do you think I'm weird?"

"No. I don't think you're weird. But I don't think you should try to move these bricks right now by thinking about it, either. You might move the wrong brick and they would all fall on us again."

The muscles in Blaise' arms were burning. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold himself up on his forearms before he collapsed and crushed Wendy beneath him.

"Do you believe me, then? That I can move things by thinking about it? My mum says she believes me, but I know she doesn't really believe me. It's like she says she believes William's imaginary friend Caleb is sitting at the table with us, when we all know there isn't really anyone else there with us."

Blaise listened to the girl chatter on. Ordinarily he would have wanted nothing more than to silence her, but at the moment he was thankful for the conversation. He needed a distraction from the pain, a distraction from the current situation. He needed to forget for a moment that he was being crushed by tons of rubble on his back and the strength of his arms was the only thing keeping this little girl alive at the moment.

"Of course I believe you, Wendy. You see, I'm a wizard, and you don't know it yet, but you are a witch." He suddenly remembered something she had said earlier. Something that should have immediately thrown up a red flag, but he was a bit occupied at the time and had missed it. "Is there someone else that believes you also? Someone that lives in your building?"

"Mmhm. Miss Minney. She lives on the floor above us. I hope she's okay. That man in black was really mad when she didn't open the door."

Blaise racked his brain trying to remember a witch named Minney but he came up blank. It was good information to have, though. A witch lived in the flat on the top floor, and the fire was caused by someone that she knew. All he had to do was find out who the witch was, and then they would be able to come up with a list of suspects.

"I don't think I know anyone named Minney. Hopefully she wasn't home and that's why she didn't answer the door? Did you recognize the man in black? Has he been there before?"

"I don't know. It could have been a woman. It was hard to tell with the mask they were wearing." Wendy shrugged her shoulders, quite a feat given their current positioning.

Suddenly a scraping noise could be heard through the bricks. Blaise and Wendy both started at the unexpected noise, then relaxed instantly.

"They're coming. We're going to be okay now. They'll find us."

They waited for several long minutes in silence. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. Blaise tried to calculate how long they had been trapped there. Had it been minutes or hours? He couldn't tell. He just knew that he couldn't take it much longer.

"Where did that stupid dog go that you made? I thought it was getting help?" Wendy was starting to get impatient. And scared. She didn't like being stuck like she was. She could wiggle around a little bit, but not enough to expend the energy she felt bubbling up inside her.

"It's called a patronus, and yes, it went for help."

"Well, send another one already! That one obviously got lost!" He could hear the panic creeping into her voice again and knew he had to try to keep her calm.

"It delivered its message. Otherwise it would have come back to us. We just have to be patient a little while longer." Comforting the girl was difficult, especially since he shared her sense of doom. He decided to try to get her talking again. If they were both concentrating on something other than their current predicament, maybe they would both remain calm. "Tell me about Minney. What does she look like?"

Wendy huffed; clearly his diversion tactics hadn't fooled her. After a moment, though, she reluctantly responded.

"Her hair looks like mine but it's darker. She said she would show me how to fix it when I get older so it isn't so frizzy all the time. And her name isn't Minney. Not really. It's just hard to pronounce her name, that's all. It's Hermminninny or something like that."

Blaise felt all the air rush from his lungs. His eyes squeezed shut as he fought to regain his breath.

"Hermione?" His voice was barely a whisper, choked out between rough breaths.

"Yeah, that's it! So I just call her Miss Minney because it's easier. Do you know her too?"

He knew the young girl was waiting for an answer, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything else. Not yet. His mind was spinning, mentally connecting the dots that he should have seen all along. Draco had sent out the original alert for the fire, asking for backup. Draco, who was supposed to be at home, guarding over the very witch that just happened to live in this building. The building that was currently crushing him into the pavement.

_Fuck._

He needed to move. He needed to get out of the rubble that was currently trapping him. He needed to find Draco and make sure he was alright. He needed to let someone know that Wendy had seen someone setting loose the fiendfyre.

"Wendy, I need you to help me one more time."

The girl regarded him in the dark. The tone in his voice was different. It wasn't placating or soothing like before. She knew this request was different. The determination that was radiating from him was proof enough for that.

"You want me to move the bricks with my mind, don't you?"

He smirked at the intelligence of the girl. She was a bright one. Very intuitive. She reminded him so much of Granger it was almost scary.

"I'm going to levitate the bricks. I just need you to help me." He was drawing on his magical core strength, but in his current weakened state he was afraid he wouldn't be able to control the magic like he needed too. "All I need you to do, Wendy, is put your hand on mine and think about the blue sky. Can you do that?"

"I think so." Her voice shook with her growing desire to leave their small prison. She wiggled herself around until she could lay her hand over top of Blaise's on the wand.

He felt the surge almost immediately, of her magic mixing with his. He gave it only a moment to settle before reciting the charm to lift the bricks off of them.

On the other side of the rubble, Theo and Luna had been frantically lifting and moving bricks for nearly forty five minutes, searching for their fallen comrade. They heard the rustle of bricks moving several yards to the left of where they were currently searching. Immediately they rushed over to the area and started clearing bricks away. Between the two of them, and Blaise and Wendy working from below, it took only minutes to clear away the debris that was covering the three bodies.

"Blaise! We did it! I can see the sky now!" Wendy smiled and turned to look at the man that had saved her life.

If Blaise thought the pain on his back, legs and arms was bad with the bricks pressing down on him, the pain as they lifted off was three times as bad. He managed to keep himself from screaming out loud and scaring the young girl that was still lying beneath him.

"Oh, Merlin!" Luna's lilting voice drifted into the small chasm that had been created when the bricks had been lifted away from them. "Don't move, Blaise."

That was the last thing he heard as his body finally gave out on him. His vision went black and his arms collapsed. Wendy found herself pressed against the rough ground with Blaise's full weight on top of her. Only then did she realize he had been holding the rubble off of her the whole time. Luckily, the way she was laying, she could still breathe. She could not, however, see what was going on.

"Hello? Is someone there?" Her voice shook with exertion, but she had been sure she heard a woman's voice only moments earlier.

"Hello. My name is Luna. We'll have you out of there soon, okay?"

Luna and Theo were both at the bottom kneeling beside Blaise and Wendy now. Theo worked quickly to extricate the boys' body from under Blaise's arm. He did a quick diagnostic spell and found that the boy had not survived. That made seven muggles in total that had been killed in the building collapse.

Theo took the boy's body to the side of the park with the others.

"That's William. Maggie's son." An elderly woman told him as he laid the boy out on the ground. She nodded to one of the other figures lying there with a sheet covering it from head to toe. "There's a girl somewhere, too. Her name is Wendy."

Theo nodded to the woman and returned to Luna's side. Luna was slowly levitating Blaise out of the hole they had found him in. Once he was clear, Theo strapped him to a stretcher and used a portkey to transport him to St. Mungo's. He made sure Luna had the girl under control, and then he followed his friend to the hospital.

Before he went to the waiting room to pace back and forth for hours on end, he took a moment to write a short missive to Draco, informing him that his partner was injured. He sent it off with an owl then stalked off looking for information about his friend's condition.

* * *

Draco woke to the sound of an owl pecking at the window pane. He recognized the sound almost immediately. He let his eyes drift open slowly and awareness started to slip into his brain. Awareness of his current position, lying on the sitting room floor, awareness of the witch that was lying next to him, with her arm wrapped around his waist and her cheek pressed against his chest. Despite being on the floor, he didn't want to move. He didn't want to break this moment. Ever.

The owl was insistent, though. Slowly Hermione started to awaken also. He expected her to recoil when she realized where she was, and who she was with. Instead she snuggled closer to him, for only a moment, before sighing and rolling away.

"You might as well let him in, Draco. He's not going away until you do."

Reluctantly, he agreed with her. Slowly he pushed himself into a sitting position and then pulled himself to his feet. He noticed that she had started to move also, and by the time he opened the window she was standing beside him.

He opened the parchment and felt himself blanche as he read the words written there.

"_Blaise critically injured in the fire. At St. Mungo's now. – Theo"_

"Fuck." He crumpled the parchment up and threw it towards the fireplace.

"What happened, Draco?" Hermione didn't wait for him to answer before picking up the parchment and reading it for herself. "The fire? The same fire you were hurt in?"

Draco looked at her incredulously. How had she even known about the fire? Had he told her and not remembered doing so?

"Don't look at me like that. You reek of smoke. What happened?"

He knew there was no point in lying to her. So he told her about his walk in muggle London, the fire in the muggle apartment building, and the wizard that had dueled him. He didn't notice that her face had paled until he had finished his story.

"Draco, if that floo hadn't still worked..."

Their eyes locked for a long moment, both of them thinking the same things but neither wanting to voice their concerns. Both of them knowing that if the floo hadn't worked, the building would have collapsed with him inside, and as weak as he was he never would have survived.

"I need to go check on Blaise. I'll be back as soon as I can be, okay?" Draco didn't really wait for her answer before turning towards the floo. "Stay here, Hermione. I mean it."

She nodded at him once. She wanted to go with him to the hospital, but knew that she couldn't do it. Not right now. She needed to stay right where she was.

Before he stepped into the fireplace, she rushed to his side and placed her hand on his shoulder to stop him from leaving. Hermione Granger was never an impulsive person, but in that moment all she was thinking was how easily it could have happened, how quickly he could have been gone. The feelings that she seemed to have developed for the man standing in front of her were strong, stronger than she thought possible. The mere thought of him not returning took her breath away.

He looked into her worried eyes. His heart nearly stopped at the concern that he saw floating around in those chocolate orbs. He didn't pause to think about what he was doing as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his arms. She held him tightly, almost as tightly as he was holding her. He dipped his head down so that his lips were right beside her ear.

"Don't worry, Maya. I'll be back soon."

She gripped him even tighter for a long moment before releasing a sigh and stepping back away from him.

"Be careful, Draco." Her eyes met his and she had the strong urge to lean forward and brush her lips against his. The moment was lost when Draco blinked and stepped back away from her.

"I will be." He gave her one final look before putting up an extra layer of wards, unblocking the floo and stepping through to St. Mungo's for the second time that day.

Hermione watched him disappear in the green flames, torn between following him and staying right where she was until he returned. Several minutes later she forced herself to move away from the sitting room. It wasn't easy to do, but she knew she wouldn't be any help just standing there. Her first stop was the kitchen to find something to eat, then she returned to the lab to continue her research.

**AN: After some of the reviews last chapter, I'm a little nervous now. So go ahead, tell me what you think - good, bad or indifferent. I can take it. ;)**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: Happy Monday all. :) Thank you to everyone that is reading, following and reviewing this story. It makes my day to see all the notifications in my email. Really, it does. And thank you to Bex for beta reading for me, pointing out my grammatical errors, and asking me silly questions that help me write better and create a better mental image for my readers. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Draco paced in front of the closed doors, waiting impatiently for word from the healers. Theo sat in one of the hard plastic chairs along the wall with his head in his hands and his foot tapping rapidly against the tile. The waiting room was empty save for the two of them.

When he had first gotten there, Theo had explained that when the building collapsed, most of the Aurors and MLE agents on the scene had been able to apparate to safety before returning to continue fighting the fire. Blaise could have easily apparated as well, but had instead risked his life to save two muggle children.

Draco was in the middle of pacing the small room for the thirty eighth time (he knew because he had been counting) when the door opened behind him. It wasn't the door to the operating room that opened. It was the door leading into the waiting room from the hospital. Harry Potter stepped into the room quietly through the now open door.

Harry had never been one of Draco's favorite people. That perception had not improved given the information he had learned earlier in the day, either. He managed to contain his growl at the dark haired Auror imposing on his waiting room, but only just. Harry eyed Draco wearily before sitting down next to Theo.

"Has there been any word?" he asked quietly.

Draco didn't answer him. He simply resumed his pacing and listened as Theo filled Potter in on what the healers had already told them.

Blaise's condition was bad, but they should be able to fix him up. That's what the healers had said, anyway. His legs were both crushed by the weight of the bricks that had fallen on them. Several of his ribs were broken. One of his arms was broken in several places. There were third degree burns covering his back and shoulders. There was massive internal bleeding. Honestly, he had been lucky to have survived at all.

Draco's pacing count was nearing one hundred when he decided to sit down for a few minutes. The pacing wasn't really helping anyway. He sat heavily on the plastic chair directly across from Theo and Potter. His change in movement caught Potter's eye and his attention.

"I'm told the original warning came from you, Malfoy. But I don't remember seeing you at the scene anywhere."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the other wizard as he tried to figure out what the man was getting at.

"I went inside after I sent the message for help. There were a couple of muggle kids trapped inside that I led out of the building. Then I found the wizard that was conjuring the fire on the third floor." His gaze went distant as he thought back to the man he fought with. Whoever it was knew who he was. That wasn't really surprising, though. He was a Malfoy. One of the only Malfoy's left. Most wizards knew who he was.

"What did he look like? Did you recognize him?" Harry was leaning forward in his seat now, watching Draco intently. He would never admit it to the present company, but the Auror's were not able to find any clues as to who had set loose the Fiendfyre.

"No. He was wearing a hood or a mask that covered his head. It was completely black, but he could see through it. It was the weirdest thing. It looked like one of those face masks that muggles wear, but without holes for eyes."

Harry's eyes widened and Draco couldn't help but notice the look that was exchanged between Theo and Harry.

"You've seen something like it before, then?"

Theo swallowed thickly before nodding his head once.

"It's a prototype that our team is testing. It's charmed to withstand most types of dark magic."

"Including Fiendfyre." Harry finished for him.

"And your team members are the only ones that have access to this prototype?" Draco was clenching his fists together and trying very hard not to lose his shit. Potter's team only consisted of four people. Potter, Nott, Lovegood, and of course, the Weasel.

"All of the Aurors know about it. It's possible someone else got their hands on it." Harry didn't want to make any assumptions. Not yet, anyway.

"And where are Miss Lovegood and your sidekick, the Weasel?" Draco sneered. His assumptions had already been made, although he couldn't imagine what the red head's motive could have possibly been.

"Luna was by my side the whole time, fighting the fire off, then searching for Blaise under the rubble after we received his patronus. She's with the little girl now, the one he risked his life to save."

Draco nodded his head in understanding. Luna had never been one that he would suspect anyway. He waited for either of the other two wizards in the room to answer the second part of his question. Where was Ron Weasley, and more importantly, where had he been during the fire?

"We're forgetting about one other person that had access as well." Theo looked at Harry wearily. Harry raised his eyebrows and shook his head definitively.

"You can't be serious? She would never do anything like this. That fire killed seven muggles!" Harry recoiled away from Theo's suggestion.

"Who are you talking about?" Draco was confused by Potter's reaction. Whoever _she _was, it had to be someone close to him.

"She created the hood. Put all the charms into the fabric herself. She could have easily made a duplicate of our prototype." Theo ignored Draco's question and remained focused on Harry.

"Why?" Harry stood then and began pacing, just as Draco had done earlier. "Why would she do it? There is no motive there. No reason at all for her to burn down a muggle apartment building. Not to mention, but Fiendfyre is very dark magic. It's not something you mess around with, and she knows that."

"If it makes any difference in your assessment, there was a witch or wizard living on the top floor. That's how I managed to get out before the building collapsed. I had lost too much blood to apparate safely, but the floo was still working and there was a jar of floo powder on the mantel."

Harry continued to pace back and forth across the waiting room, even more agitated knowing that there had been someone magical living in that building.

"She's cast Fiendfyre before. She had to, to test the hood in the lab." Theo watched Harry warily. He knew it was unlikely that she would do anything of this magnitude, but they couldn't rule out anyone due to personal attachments.

"Who charmed the hood, Potter?" Draco asked again, fed up with not knowing who they were talking about. He was curious, but at the same time he almost dreaded the answer.

Harry stopped pacing and stared out the window for a long moment. Then he released a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Ginny Weasley," he finally answered reluctantly. "I just can't see her doing something like this, though. I really can't. Maybe someone stole the plans from her office, and made a duplicate hood that way?"

Draco was a bit surprised by his answer, and a little bit relieved. He had almost expected the dark haired wizard to say that Granger had charmed the hood.

"Can you talk to her? See if she drops any hints or anything like that?" Theo asked.

"I doubt it." Harry scoffed. "I, uh, I broke up with her last night, so I don't think she'll talk to me."

Before Draco or Theo could respond to that revelation, the door opened again and Luna walked in. She sat down next to Draco, but her eyes were on Harry. The normally dreamy girl was quite sober and pensive as she observed the men in the room.

"How is the girl?" Theo asked, breaking the silence that had settled over the room at Luna's entrance.

"Physically she is fine. Her broken legs have been healed. She's asking about Blaise, though, and wants to see him when he wakes." She glanced at the door, almost expecting the healer to step through any moment with word about their fallen friend. She then returned her gaze to Harry and her eyes seemed to light up.

"Harry, the wrackspurts are gone! However did you manage to finally get rid of them? I suspect that Hermione will be thrilled that they've gone. She didn't like them there at all."

Harry had always tolerated Luna's unique perspective. In a lot of ways he felt like she was a kindred spirit. Where many people thought she was strange, he thought she was gifted, gifted with a sight that not many could understand.

"Yes, Luna. I can't wait to tell her myself that they're gone." Of course, he had no idea what she was talking about. Still, he couldn't deny that he had been able to think clearer in the last two days than he had in the last two years at least.

Luna smiled, a brilliant smile that lit up the whole waiting room. Harry smiled back at her, possibly the first genuine smile he'd had in days.

Draco and Theo observed the interaction, then glanced at each other in surprise. Draco cleared his throat to get the attention of the couple who were now staring into each other's eyes.

"I believe we were talking about motives for casting Fiendfyre in a muggle neighborhood."

Theo caught on to the change in topic quickly. He leaned forward in his chair again and put his elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together.

"We need to know who lived in the building that was magical. Whoever it was has to be the target."

"Oh! I thought you all knew." Luna glanced at each wizard in turn, but kept her eyes on Harry as she finished. "That was Hermione's building. She moved in a couple of months ago."

All of the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Draco felt as if someone had punched him right in the gut. He couldn't breathe. His fist tightened to the point that his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands. The person he had dueled with, the person that had set loose Fiendfyre, that person was targeting Hermione. What would have happened if she had been at home, working on her research at the time? What if the person responsible for the attack figured out that she was alone right now, in his home, with no one there to guard and protect her?

The urge to leave the hospital right away and return to the witch that was in even more danger than they had ever suspected was incredibly strong. He had to force himself to remain seated. Leaving abruptly would only draw attention, attention that he didn't want at the moment. None of his current companions knew that Hermione was at his home. None of them knew that he had been in recent contact with her. None of them knew anything about her situation.

They would all know soon enough, he knew. He was not ready to volunteer the information just yet.

Harry dropped heavily into a chair, his legs no longer able to hold his weight. The sound of the chair scraping against the tile grabbed Draco's attention and he looked up quickly to see all the color drained out of the other wizard's face.

"So we're back to square one, then." Theo sighed as he leaned back against the wall. "None of the Aurors would have reason to attack Granger. Ron is her boyfriend and Ginny is one of her best friends."

Harry ran his hands through his thick hair in agitation. Draco watched him closely. He could tell by the other man's reaction that he knew something that could be vital to the investigation.

"That's not necessarily true." Harry finally sighed. "Hermione broke up with Ron several days ago. He says they are back together again, but I haven't been able to find her to confirm. I really don't think she would take him back. And Ginny... well, she thinks that I broke up with her for Hermione. She thinks I'm in love with 'Mione and since her and Ron broke up..."

Draco, Theo and Harry all exchanged meaningful looks as his words trailed off. Ginny Weasley was known to have a powerful temper, and hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Draco closed his eyes and forced himself to keep breathing. In his mind they now had two suspects. Both had opportunity and motive. And both had the surname of Weasley.

"Did you?" Luna's voice was clear and dreamy as it always was, but Draco thought he also noted a tone of sadness mixed in there as well. She pushed her blonde hair over her shoulder and picked at her fingernails, not looking at any of the three men that were now staring at her intently. "Did you break up with Gin because you thought you had a chance with Hermione?"

Draco was a little more interested in how Potter would answer that question than he would ever admit to. Not that it mattered, he knew how Hermione felt about the Chosen One. He knew that Potter didn't stand a chance. Still, he was a bit relieved when he heard the dark haired wizard mutter "No."

Luna also seemed relieved at his response. She relaxed into her chair and her smile became just a little bit brighter.

"Hermione has always been like a sister to me. I just want our friendship back." Harry stood and leaned against the window, looking out onto the streets below rather than at his companions.

"Maybe you shouldn't have thrown it away in the first place, Potter." Draco couldn't bite his tongue any longer. Harry turned to glare at him, of course, but he had also caught the attention of Luna and Theo. They were all staring at him now.

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about, Malfoy, so I suggest you keep your mouth shut." Harry's hands tightened into fists and sparks were gathering in his eyes. Tensions were already running high in the small waiting room. It was only a matter of time before the sparks would ignite.

"I know more than you think." Draco leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other as though he were completely relaxed. He wasn't, of course. His arms were folded over his chest in a manner that appeared bored, but in reality it was so he could easily grip his wand without drawing suspicion. His false nonchalance irritated Harry, as it was intended to do.

Luckily for all of them, the healer chose that moment to open the door and step into the room. All attention was on her as she stood there looking over the occupants of the waiting room.

"Mr. Zabini will be fine. We're done with the procedures and everything went well. He's resting now, but you will all be able to see him tomorrow afternoon when we wake him up."

Draco released a sigh of relief at the news. He glanced at the clock in the room and realized it was well after midnight already. He was exhausted, but there was one other stop he had to make before he returned home. He gave Theo a brief nod, glared at Potter one last time, and left the waiting room.

* * *

Moments later he was standing in the atrium of a very deserted Ministry of Magic. He moved through the darkened hallways quietly until he arrived at his desk. He sat down and started filling out the paperwork required for the incident report. He described in detail what he had seen and what he had done earlier at the apartment fire.

As he was finishing his report, he heard the lift open behind him. He turned around slowly and watched the figure emerge from the darkness. He wasn't really surprised to see Minister Shacklebolt himself step out of the shadows.

"Malfoy. It's a little late to be doing paperwork, isn't it?" The Minister sat down in the chair next to Draco's desk and motioned to the rolls of parchment laid out in front of him.

"It's my report on the fire. I wanted to get it down before I forget something." He finished signing his name at the bottom of the parchment before sealing the forms together and handing them to the Minister.

"I understand your partner will be out for a few days, but they expect a full recovery." Kingsley took the report from Draco and stowed it in his folder to read later before continuing. "He was here, with me when your distress call came in. We were working on cleaning out one of the labs downstairs. Do you know anything about that?"

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned forward in his seat. He didn't know anything about Blaise cleaning out a lab. The last time he had talked to his partner, the man had stupefied him and left him in a heap on his own floor. What he did know was that Blaise was bringing Hermione's report to the Ministry, and he knew that Hermione's lab was downstairs. It didn't take a genius to add the two together.

"I might know a little something about it, yes." He responded carefully. They had been careful not to include his name in the report, but with Blaise being his partner it wasn't too far of a stretch that he would have informed Draco of what happened.

"Good." Kingsley nodded. "Then perhaps you can deliver the boxes to where they need to go?"

It didn't escape his notice that the Minister had not used any names, nor any specifics. He was being cautious, smart, exactly the way he needed to be.

"Absolutely. Do you have them?"

"That should be all of it," the Minister said as he sat a small canvas bag on the desk. He then reached into his folder again and pulled out a roll of parchment. Draco could easily see the Minister's seal on the scroll even as the older wizard kept it wrapped tightly in his fist. "I would also request that you deliver this along with the boxes, as a personal favor."

Draco eyed the parchment warily for a long moment before holding out his hand. The second the roll of parchment touched his skin, he could feel the magic rolling off of it. This letter was intended for Hermione's eyes only. He knew he would not be able to read it even if he tried.

"I'll make sure it gets where it needs to go." He assured the Minister before slipping the letter into his inner pocket and securing it there.

Both men stood to leave now that their business was complete. They said their polite good-bye's and went off in different directions; Draco back to the atrium to floo home, and the Minister back to his office to presumably do the same thing.

When he arrived home, the house was quiet. A light had been left on in the sitting room, and another on the stairwell. He found a sandwich in the kitchen with his name on it, which he ate quickly, only then realizing that he hadn't eaten at all since breakfast. After securing the house, he made his way upstairs. He was about to slip into his bedroom for some much needed sleep when he noticed a light still on in the lab. He hesitated only a moment before moving silently down the hallway and stepping through the doorway.

Hermione was there, at one of the tables, with a stack of notes on one side and a large book on the other. Her head was cradled in her arms on the table and she appeared to be sound asleep. He took a moment to watch her, as creepy as that may seem. She was beautiful. He had thought so for years. The idea that she was in his home was still completely surreal to him. He felt that she could disappear at any moment. That sooner or later the Fates would realize that he didn't deserve her, and they would yank her away again.

She mumbled in her sleep and started to stir. Draco held his breath for a long moment, wondering if she would wake up and how she would feel to find him standing there, watching as she slept. She sighed deeply and seemed to resettle herself. He debated whether or not he should wake her. It was nearing three in the morning. Perhaps, he should just let her continue sleeping as she was? It didn't look very comfortable, though, and he was slightly nervous that she would fall into a deep sleep and slide out of the chair onto the hardwood floor below.

With that decided, he made his way quickly to her side and gently shook her shoulder until her eyes blinked open slowly. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust and focus. When they finally did focus, he saw them immediately cloud over with confusion, as if she didn't understand why she was sleeping with her head on a table.

"Draco?" Her voice was thick with sleep as she slowly lifted her head and stretched her arms out. "Sorry, I must have fallen asleep?"

The confusion was etched across her face and evident in her voice.

"It's no wonder. It's late. You should have gone to bed hours ago." His hand was still lying across her shoulder. Rather than removing it, he started slowly rubbing circles across her shoulders, smirking to himself when her eyes fluttered closed and she barely moaned at the feeling.

"I wanted to stay up, to see if Blaise was okay?" She leaned into his hand and he began kneading the muscles in her shoulders.

"He will be."

She nodded her head and leaned forward a little more so he could message both of her shoulders at the same time. He closed his eyes and savored the feeling of being able to touch her. He wanted to do so much more.

"Did you learn anything more about the fire? Or who set it to begin with?" Her voice was sleepy and her eyes had fallen shut once again. They snapped open as soon as his hands faltered, knowing instinctively that whatever he had learned, she wouldn't like it.

"I learned who the witch was that lived in the flat." He forced his hands to move again, but he knew it was too late. She had asked him a question, and he wasn't willing to lie to her. She had to find out sooner or later. She turned in her seat and looked up at him, her eyes wide awake and full of dread. He swallowed thickly before continuing. "I'm sorry, Maya. It was your apartment building. It was your flat."

Her stomach knotted tightly as she tried to comprehend what he was telling her. Someone had attacked her home with Fiendfyre. The same person had attacked Draco and nearly killed him. Blaise had been severely injured. How many others had been hurt? How many had died?

She closed her eyes tightly against the images that were swimming before them. She kept coming back to the image of Draco lying on the floor, covered in blood and barely conscious.

Draco watched all of the emotions flicker across her face. Everything from shocked to appalled crossed over her eyes before she slammed them shut. He wrapped his arms around her and held her close, not willing to ever let her go.

"Ron?" She managed to ask finally, after the initial shock had worn off and she was able to release the death grip she had on his shirt.

"It's possible, but we aren't ruling out other suspects either." He rubbed his hands across her back soothingly, breathing in her scent and wondering if he could convince her to sleep in his bed that night. Only to sleep, just so she wouldn't be alone. "Come on. It's late. We're both dead tired. Let's get some sleep, yeah?"

She nodded against his chest before taking a deep breath. Slowly she stepped away from his embrace and let him lead her out the door into the hallway. When they reached her door, she hesitated. He gave her a moment to open her door and step inside, but knew that she was reluctant to do so. Then with a gentle nudge of his hand, he guided her further down the hallway to his door. She didn't resist and let him lead her inside. He changed into sleep pants and a t-shirt quickly, but by the time he returned from the bathroom she was already curled up in his bed, fast asleep.

**AN: Review. Please. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. : ) **


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: Hey guys. Sorry it's been a couple of weeks since my last update. The last week was an emotional one for me. It was the third anniversary of my Mom's passing. For those of you that have read The Token, you know how very important she was, is, and always will be. **

**As always, thank you all for reading. Big thanks to Bex for beta reading for me. And please let me know what you think. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Hermione woke slowly, wrapped in warmth. She didn't want to open her eyes, didn't want to wake from the dream she was having. The dream of being securely wrapped in Draco's arms, sleeping peacefully in his bed. She convinced herself for a long while not to move lest the dream be lost. Eventually she had to move, though. Reluctantly she opened her eyes and moved to stretch her muscles. It wasn't until that moment that she realized it hadn't been the lingering remnants of a dream at all. The arms that were holding her were all too real.

She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent and relishing in the security that she felt in that moment. She exhaled slowly as she slid away from him. She paused long enough to see if he would stir before standing up slowly and making her way out of his bedroom. She closed the door softly, and once the latch clicked into place she exhaled slowly once again.

Her slow, soft movements were not only to ensure that Draco wouldn't wake. No. The headache she had woken up with was causing her immense pain. A strong, shooting pain that felt like a knife was being stabbed into her brain behind her left eye. The first thing she did when she entered her bedroom was to take a pain relief potion. In fact, the pain was so intense that she actually took two of them.

She wanted to lie down, then, and let the potions take effect. Instead, she made her way into the bathroom and stepped into a steaming hot shower. As the water fell around her she tried to relax the muscles in her eyes, tried to ease the pain away.

She tried not to think about it being Monday morning. She tried not to think about the report that would be read by the Wizengamot that morning, or the headline on The Daily Prophet that would be delivered shortly to witches and wizards everywhere. She tried not to think about the fire that was unleashed on her apartment, or the unknown wizard that was responsible. She tried not to think about Blaise lying injured in St. Mungo's, or Draco, bleeding and near death on the sitting room floor. She tried not to think about Narcissa Malfoy, or any of the other patients that would continue to suffer and die if she was not able to find a cure for PCS. She tried not to think about the mystery man that wrote to her in the journal, or the sudden feelings she was having for Draco.

In the midst of trying not to think about everything that had happened in the last three day, she found herself unable to think of anything else. The thoughts swirled through her mind in a maddening rush, taking her breath away. Her chest began to tighten. She couldn't breathe. She realized she was gasping for air when her vision started to black out. Slowly she lowered herself to the floor and sat with her back against the tile wall and her knees pulled up to her chest. Water continued to fall down on her like rain as she placed her head on her knees and focused on nothing but breathing.

She pushed all of the other thoughts aside. She focused on nothing but the tile beneath her feet and breathing. In…out…in…out. Slowly the world came back into focus. She was able to see the tile under her feet, as well as the glass shower door in front of her. She was able to breathe without an intense pressure squeezing her chest.

She remained there for a long while. Piece by piece she went over every single item on the list.

The Wizengamot would be meeting any minute and they would read the report about Ron attacking her. There was nothing more she could do about it. It was out of her hands.

She took a deep breath and repeated to herself, "It's out of my hands."

The headline in the Prophet would likely be something scandalous that put her in a bad light. The people at the Prophet didn't exactly like her, and the feeling was entirely mutual. However, she had no control over what their headline would be. All she could do would be to deal with the aftermath.

She took another deep breath and felt her shoulders relax as she exhaled.

The Fiendfyre and the wizard responsible were two more items that she could not control. Ron was an asshole, there was no doubt about that, but she wasn't sure he would resort to dark magic like that. She didn't want to believe that he would unleash something so devastating simply because she didn't want to date him anymore.

Then, of course, Blaise and Draco were both injured because of the fire. How many others had been injured? How many had died? How many muggles were now without a home?

These extra questions were not helping her any, so she had to force herself to focus. She hadn't set loose the Fiendfyre. She hadn't injured Blaise or Draco, or anyone else for that matter. It would be up to the MLE and the Auror departments to figure out who the responsible party was.

Another deep breath and another reminder to herself, "It wasn't my fault. It's out of my hands."

Narcissa Malfoy's imminent death, on the other hand, was something she felt extremely responsible for. She had taken on the task of finding a cure for PCS. She had already failed for Mrs. Parkinson. She would soon fail Mrs. Malfoy as well. She was running out of time. She knew it. Along with that knowledge was almost an acceptance. Hermione had never failed at anything she put her mind to. Always the brave Gryffindor, she had never backed away from a challenge. She didn't want to start being a coward now.

"Sometimes admitting defeat is the bravest thing you can do."

She took another deep breath and exhaled, feeling the tension ease from her muscles. She lifted her head from her knees and let it fall back against the tile wall. She folded her legs up and without standing she began to wash her hair. As the soap ran across her body, she found herself thinking of the last two items on her list; her mystery man and Draco.

She was almost certain that Draco was the man writing to her in the journal. It was something he had said the day before, after she had healed him. She asked him why he had let her put him to sleep. His response had been because he trusted her. It was the same response she had given when asked why she had requested Malfoy and Zabini. And when he said it, it felt like the 'too' was implied. _Because I trust you, too._

If Draco and the mystery man were one and the same, then she had only one item left on her list. Her growing attraction and feelings for Draco. She couldn't explain it and it made no sense at all. At the same time, it made perfect sense. He was handsome, smart, funny, and rich (not that she cared about his money). He had been through the same war she had been through. He had seen her at her most vulnerable. At one point in time he had been a bully to her, but he had grown into a fine man that had apologized to her for those things.

Most importantly, though, was the way her heart would speed up when he looked at her, or the way it would skip a beat when he touched her. The way his lips had felt against her neck the day before, when they were lying on the floor. The intensity in his eyes when he looked at her.

Yes. She was very attracted to Draco Malfoy.

Besides being attracted to him, she found that she cared for him quite a bit. It was because of this affection that she knew, no matter what, nothing could come of their seemingly mutual attraction. She could not act on it, even though she very much wanted to. She cared for him too much, and she would never hurt him like that.

With one final deep breath and exhale, she muttered one final sentence.

"I have to tell him."

With that decision made, she felt the rest of the tension leave her body. Slowly she stood and finished washing herself before stepping out of the shower and wrapping herself in a fluffy green towel.

Twenty minutes later she had dressed in a pair of black jeans, a light brown over-sized sweater and brown boots. Her hair was dry and hung in soft curls down her back and across her shoulders. She wasn't trying for a sexy look, but when she walked into the kitchen and found Draco setting plates of food on the table, he could barely keep his eyes off of her.

"Good morning." His voice was low, almost rough. He cleared his throat quickly. "I went to the store and stocked up this morning. I didn't realize I was out of almost everything."

He seemed almost nervous and she couldn't help but smile a little at him. He was wearing black pants and a dark gray pullover. The color of his shirt brought out the silver in his eyes. It took physical effort for her to look away.

"It looks great. I'm starving." She wondered how long she had been in the shower if he had time to wake up, shower and dress, go to the grocery store, and make breakfast. It must have been longer than she thought.

They sat down at the table and began eating in silence. Hermione was finished with her eggs and starting on her toast when an owl swooped in the open window, dropped the newspaper on the table, and swooped back out again. She froze in place, the toast halfway to her mouth, and stared at the paper. Determinedly, she forced herself to keep eating and ignore the offending object as best she could.

Draco watched her carefully and took his cue from her. He, too, continued to eat rather than picking the paper up and unfurling it. The silence between them that was comfortable had now become deafening.

Draco finished eating first. He cleared his dishes and poured himself another cup of coffee before sitting back down at the table. Hermione followed suit only moments later.

"We should probably see what it says, yeah?" Draco reached for the paper first, half expecting her to stop him. She didn't, though. Instead she watched with wide eyes as he picked it up off the table and opened it.

On the front page there were several pictures. One was straight from her report, a picture that Blaise had taken that showed the bruise on her face and her shoulders while she glared at the camera. Another was a picture of her and Weasley that had been taken at some sort of charity function. She was dressed in a red floor length gown and her heal was tapping furiously against the floor as she sat at a round table next to Weasley and appeared to be bored out of her mind. The third was a picture of the building fire, with numerous Aurors and MLE agents battling the blaze.

The headline across the top nearly made Draco choke on his coffee.

_**Has War Heroine Hermione Granger Finally Cracked?**_

_Her friends have noticed her decline for years. Since the war ended, Hermione Granger has slowly and steadily descended into madness. She works fourteen hours a day on a project that her own supervisor states is completely pointless. Often she can be seen sitting by herself, reading and mumbling out loud so that only she can hear. _

"_She doesn't have any friends anymore. We would tolerate her, of course, for Ron's sake, but none of us really wanted her around." A source close to Miss Granger stated. "She just got so obsessive and it was just work, work, work all the time. I think we were all glad when she broke up with Ron."_

_Of course, this source is referring to Miss Granger's longtime boyfriend, and now ex-boyfriend, War Hero Ron Weasley. Miss Granger broke up with him rather publicly last week at his place of employment, the Auror office in the Ministry of Magic. The reason for their demise seems to be a botched birthday celebration._

_On Saturday, Miss Granger filed a report against Mr. Weasley. In the report, she alleged that Mr. Weasley had broken into her apartment and physically abused her when she refused to take him back. Mr. Weasley denies these allegations._

"_She's crazy. Completely bonkers, that one. Too much time spent reading and not enough time spent in the real world if you ask me." Mr. Weasley was quoted as saying. _

_We asked our source about these allegations._

"_Once she realized she lost all of her friends, she probably gave herself those bruises to garnish sympathy. When Ron didn't fall for it, she went to the Ministry and accused him of attacking her. Ron would never hurt a woman. Everyone knows that. He's one of the sweetest people you would ever meet. I wouldn't put it past her to have set that fire in her own flat, either, hoping he would be the one to come rescue her."_

Draco crumbled the paper into a heap and threw it in the direction of the fireplace.

"Rubbish. Complete and total rubbish."

Hermione watched his face as he read. It must have been bad since his face paled at first, then darkened into an angry red color. She really didn't want to know what it said.

"It doesn't matter what they said. I know the truth." She mumbled the words to herself, tamping down the anxiety that was threatening to rise in her throat again. After a few deep breaths, she _accio'd_ the paper into her hands and pulled it open.

She read the headline and glanced at Draco. He was watching her intently. Probably trying to figure out if she really had cracked or not. Then she looked back down at the paper and began reading. Her knee was bouncing up and down frantically but she paid it no attention as she read on.

When she had finished, she couldn't help but agree with Draco's opinion. The article was complete rubbish. It was so obviously rubbish, that surely no one would even believe it. She relaxed slightly at that thought, folded the paper neatly in half and stood from the table.

"Right then. I have work to do. You know, on my completely pointless project." She rolled her eyes and walked towards the door.

"Maya, wait." Draco grabbed her hand and stopped her from leaving the room. She stopped walking and looked down at where his hand was wrapped gently around her wrist. Then she lifted her brown eyes to meet his. Immediately she was trapped in his gaze, unable to blink. Unable to move. Unable to look away.

"Are you okay?" The sincerity in his voice made her melt just a little bit. Her eyes flicked to his lips, wondering, just once, what it would be like to kiss him.

"I'm fine." She pulled her hand loose and gave a small shake of her head.

"I'm okay, Draco." She gave him a small smile that didn't reach her eyes, and then she walked away from him without looking back.

He watched her for a long moment, debating whether or not he should follow her. In the end, he decided it was best if he didn't. The morning was half gone and he needed to go to St. Mungo's to see how Blaise was doing before he checked in at the Ministry.

He didn't want to leave her, though. She was obviously upset by the article, and rightly so. A part of him worried that she would do something really stupid, like storm the Daily Prophet offices and demand a retraction. Or worse yet, decide she didn't really need to stay with him, pack up and leave. His heart clenched at the thought of coming home later to find she had gone.

It took a lot of will power for him to walk into the sitting room. He saw something there, sitting on the small end table that he had left the night before. It was a small canvas bag and a scroll intended for Hermione. He released a deep sigh as he realized he couldn't just leave. He needed to deliver these things to her first.

He found her in the lab, sorting through his potion books.

"I said you could use my lab. I didn't say you could rearrange my books." The words sounded a bit more cross than he had intended. There was a system to his shelves. He didn't want anyone, including Granger, messing it up.

"Relax. I know better than to rearrange someone's book shelves." She smiled at him, a more genuine smile than the one he had seen moments ago downstairs.

"What are you doing then?" He watched her curiously as she flipped passed three books, only to pull the fourth and fifth books off the shelf.

"I'm pulling out the books I haven't read through yet. The others I know won't help me, but these…maybe one of them has what I'm looking for." She pointed to the stack of ten, now twelve books that were lying on the floor next to her.

Draco ignored those, and instead looked at the shelves that were still relatively full. There must have been a hundred books remaining on the shelves.

"You've read through all of the others? And haven't found what you're looking for?" He questioned, even though he knew that's what she had just said. It just seemed very overwhelming to him.

"Yes, well…" she trailed off. Her hand was shaking as she pulled another book off the shelf. It fell to the floor with a dull thud. She moved quickly to pick it up and set it in the pile while shielding her shaking arm from Draco's view.

"How do you know that this illusive ingredient even exists?" In his mind he was calculating the odds that an ingredient would exist and not be recorded in any of the books remaining on the shelves. They weren't good.

"I refuse to believe that the Powers That Be would give us something as horrid as the Cruciatas curse, without also giving us the ingredients we need to heal its effects." She cringed, hoping he hadn't heard the slight waver in her voice.

"That's a hell of a leap of faith." He was no longer looking at the books or calculating the odds. His attention was now focused solely on the brunette witch in front of him. She never ceased to amaze him, but dedicating your life to nothing more than blind faith seemed a little out of character for the logical mind of Hermione Granger.

"Sometimes faith is all you have left." Her voice was small, faraway, and her eyes stared into the distance without seeing anything at all.

Draco slid past the stack of books on the floor to stand directly in front of her. She shook off the melancholy that had fallen over the room only to realize that Draco was now standing only inches in front of her. At one point in time she would have been intimidated by his proximity. Now she had to swallow thickly to calm her racing heart. She itched to touch him, even though the voice in the back of her mind was telling her to step away before it was too late. She licked her lips and took a small step back, as far as she could go before her back hit the shelf behind her.

He moved closer to her, impossibly closer. His hand gently swept the hair away from her face. His thumb slowly trailed along her jaw line. He tilted her head up slightly and lowered his until his lips were barely touching hers. Time seemed to freeze as his lips slowly moved against hers. She stood frozen in place for several heartbeats as her mind and her heart battled over what she should do. In the end, her heart won. As he was preparing to move away from her, she slid her hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling his lips against hers once again.

The kiss was slow and sweet. His lips were soft against hers, moving in tandem, kissing as though they had done it a million times before. His hands covered her back, holding her tightly against him while she had her arms around his neck and her fingers buried in his hair.

The kiss continued, growing more and more heated with every passing moment. She could feel his heart beating wildly next to hers. She could hear him, feel him, taste him. She was surrounded by him. When they finally broke apart, they were both panting for air. Draco leaned his forehead against hers as they both fought to catch their breath.

As her heartbeat slowly returned to normal, she closed her eyes and tried to reconcile what she had just done. Hadn't she decided just hours ago that she could not let anything happen between herself and Draco? Hadn't she decided that they could never act on their attraction?

"No. This isn't right." She shook her head from side to side a few times before gently pushing Draco away from her. He watched the emotions flutter across her face. He knew what she was going to say before she said it.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's not the right time. I just…I couldn't help myself." He ran a hand through his hair and stepped back out of her way.

"It's not going to ever be the right time, Draco." She mimicked his action by pushing her curls back behind her ear. "This, it can't happen."

He watched her for a long moment, knowing that she was as affected by him as he was by her. He couldn't figure out why she would never want to act on it.

"You said you wanted to fall in love, get married, and have a family. Those things will never happen if you don't take a chance, Maya." He could feel his chest tightening at the thought of her walking out of his life. Now that he had a small taste of what life with her could be like, he never wanted to let it go. He wouldn't let it go. Not easily.

"Those things will probably never happen anyway. I have to find the cure first, before I can even begin to think about it." Hermione moved away from him quickly. He followed her over to the table where she had been working, still unsure as to what he should say to her, and a little frustrated that she was back to talking about work yet again.

"If anyone deserves happiness, it's you. Your work is important, yes, I get that, but you deserve to have a life, too."

She smiled, a small knowing smile, but didn't respond to him. She had her bag in her hands now and she was reaching inside it, looking for something. Finally she found it and pulled the manila folder free.

"I know you don't understand, Draco, but the truth of the matter is, unless I finish my work and find the cure, I will never have happiness." She held the folder in both hands, gripping it so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. "Without the cure, I have no life."

His eyes searched hers. She had said these things to him before, but in writing you don't get the same inflection of the words. Now, as he listened to her say them out loud, he had a sinking feeling that he had missed the meaning behind the words.

"What are you saying, Maya?"

"I know you think I'm some sort of a saint, but I'm not."

She handed him the folder with shaking hands. Dread sat heavily in his stomach as he opened the cover of the folder. The words printed there on the parchment stabbed through his heart with such an intensity that he actually staggered backwards until his back hit one of the lab tables.

_Name – Granger, Hermione J._

_Sex – Female_

_Age – 21_

_Diagnosis – Advanced Stage 2 PCS, Stage 3 PCS imminent_

"No." The word was nothing more than a whisper. His horrified eyes met her saddened brown orbs.

"I didn't start my research in order to save your mother, Draco. I started it in order to save myself."

* * *

Draco closed his eyes against the sudden mental onslaught. The pain that he felt in that moment was physical, even though the injury had been purely mental. His heart was being held in an iron grasp, and the hand that was holding it was squeezing harder and harder.

_Terminal. _

_No hope. _

Memories that were unbidden and unwanted assaulted him. He stumbled backwards, somehow finding a chair and sitting down hard as the images flashed through his mind. The first time his mother had a seizure, nearly two years ago. Her body was shaking uncontrollably, her eyes wide, her mouth open in a silent scream. It was like witnessing her being cursed over and over again and there was nothing he could do to help her.

The time he came home from work late and she had tried to take a bath on her own. He had found her, naked in the bathtub, covered in her own vomit and sound asleep. It was only luck that she hadn't slipped under the water and drowned.

Six months ago when her nurse had sent him an urgent patronus. He returned home to find her unconscious again, this time with an empty bottle of muggle pills lying next to her and white foam around her mouth.

The agony and the joy that he had felt when she finally slipped into the final stage of her illness. The relief of knowing that she would soon be gone, and her suffering would soon be over, coupled with the guilt of knowing that her death would bring him peace of mind, if nothing else.

He relived it all. The seizures. The sleeping spells. The headaches and nausea. Every horror they had faced together in the last two years. He relived it all, and he forced down the bile that was rising in his throat. He forced himself to keep breathing.

It was only after he took several deep breaths that he found his heart rate slowing down, the memories fading, and reality coming back into focus. Gradually he realized that Hermione was there, by his side. She had one hand rubbing small circles across his back while her other hand gripped his tightly. His muscles relaxed bit by bit, and he was able to focus on the lab again. He was able to focus on her again.

He could hear her voice now, quietly, calmly whispering to him that it would be alright. His eyes opened slowly and focused on her. Her brown eyes were watching him carefully. They were full of concern and guilt. They shouldn't have been. She didn't have any reason to feel guilty, but that's what he saw.

"Are you okay?" She asked him quietly when he was finally able to pull his gaze away from hers.

He looked at her again. Really looked at her. He could see it now. The slight crinkle in her brow, which was probably from the beginnings of a headache. The tremor in her shoulder that ran through her arm and caused the grip on her hand to vibrate ever so slightly. She probably hadn't even noticed it herself, the movement was so small. It was small, but it was there. It was proof that the report was correct. The witch that he had slowly allowed himself to fall for was dying.

He closed his eyes once again and breathed deeply, squeezing her hand as he exhaled. There were a million questions running through his mind, all of them he wanted to ask, but knew it wasn't the right time. He had a choice to make. He knew that. He could cut his losses, get out while he could without causing too much damage to his heart. Find a way to shut off this attraction, this unknown force that had been pulling him towards her for months.

Or he could stand by her. Help her. Protect her. To do so, would mean standing by her no matter what. It would also mean watching her whither, watching her suffer, and ultimately watching her die if she did not find the cure that she was looking for so desperately.

His eyes opened once more. This time they focused on her hand that was lying comfortingly over his, on her fingers that were trembling slightly, but still gripping his. He watched for a long moment before he reached his decision. Then he took one last deep breath, finally feeling the remaining effects of shock drain from his body. His eyes were calm when he looked on her again, reflecting the feeling in his heart.

"It was just a bit of a shock, you know?" He squeezed her hand once before letting it go and running both his hands through his hair. "I should have seen the signs. You would think I'd recognize them."

"I've tried to keep it hidden, Draco. You weren't supposed to see the signs." She stepped away from him and leaned against the desk with her arms crossed over her chest.

"Why? Why try to keep it hidden?"

"People don't know how to react to the diagnosis. Most of them don't react well at all." She rubbed her temples and sighed deeply. She would never forget the day she told Harry. He looked at her, told her that it sucked, but surely she'd find a way to stop it, then he walked away. In two years he hadn't once asked her about how she was doing. Ron had simply told her it was a bullshit diagnosis and the symptoms were all in her head.

They didn't understand it at all. More importantly, they didn't care.

"You know exactly how to react. You understand the disease. I didn't want you to know because you have seen enough of this disease to last a lifetime. You should never have to see it again."

They stayed like that for a long moment, both of them silent as they waited for the other to say something. Draco sat with his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together and his head down. Hermione stood only meters away, staring unseeing out the window.

"I am sorry, Draco. I never meant for this to happen." She gestured between the two of them and her cheeks burned. What if he had only kissed her because she was there, nothing else? What if the attraction was in her head? What if he didn't feel the same way about her as she felt about him?

Or worse, what if he did? What if he felt the same pull she did? What if he was sitting there, itching to throw his arms around her and snog her senseless, just like she was?

"Do you regret it, then? That we kissed?" Draco's eyes narrowed as he watched her flounder in her thoughts. He could practically see them all rolling around between her ears, deafening her with silent screams.

She took a deep breath as she let his question permeate through her mind. Did she regret it? Did she wish it hadn't happened? Did she wish she never knew what his lips felt like against hers? Or what he tasted like?

"No, I don't regret it." Her voice was low, almost a whisper. "What I regret is how much I want to do it again."

In a heartbeat, Draco had stood and moved to stand right in front of her. She gasped in surprise as she looked into his silver eyes, eyes that were darkened with desire the likes as she had never seen directed at her before.

"Whatever you're thinking in that big brain of yours, just stop, right now." Draco's voice was thick. Just the sound of it sent a shiver of anticipation down her back. He held her gaze for only a moment before dipping his head lower and brushing his lips against hers.

She told herself to resist. She told herself not to kiss him back. It would only be harder in the long run. It would only break her heart faster when he walked away from her. He would walk away from her, just like Harry had done when he found out. He would realize that he had just gotten freedom from taking care of his mother and he would not want to voluntarily strap himself back into the role of caretaker.

She told herself to steel her heart against his onslaught.

Her heart, it seemed, wasn't listening to her.

Soon her lips were moving with his. Her arms were around his neck and her hands were tangled in his silky blond hair, tugging him closer and closer. His tongue delved deep into her mouth as his hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her body flush against his.

She put every ounce of feeling that she had for him into that kiss, knowing it would be their last one, knowing that he would leave her, too.

One of his hands slid up the back of her shirt and splayed across her bare back. She moaned deeply and arched further into him, savoring the feeling of his skin on hers. Suddenly his lips moved away from hers and she gasped for breath as he trailed hot kisses across her jaw and down her neck.

Before he could reach the juncture between her neck and her shoulder, she pushed him back gently. He moved back reluctantly and placed his forehead against hers. They were both breathing heavily. Both of their eyes were clouded with lust.

Draco cradled her face in both of his hands, gently pushing his fingers into her curls and tilting her chin so that he was looking straight into her eyes.

"I'm not going anywhere, Maya. I told you weeks ago, you are not alone. I meant every word."

Her eyes searched his, desperately trying to find the truth in his words. Her mind tripped over his words, searching for their meaning. It took several seconds before she finally realized the implication behind them.

He had told her weeks ago that she wasn't alone. There was only one person that had told her anything of the sort weeks ago. The mysterious stranger, her mystery Slytherin, the man she had been writing to.

"The journal." Her eyes widened as she whispered her response.

"Of course, the journal." He smirked and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, I question the whole brightest-witch-of-our-age thing more and more each day."

She laughed, her face breaking into a smile, before she ducked her head beneath his chin and leaned into his chest. He held her close and felt her relaxing in his arms.

It wouldn't be easy. Merlin did he know it wouldn't be easy. He was sure the full implications hadn't quite hit him yet. It didn't matter, though. He had made up his mind on the matter. He wouldn't desert her, no matter what. He would stand beside her. He would do what he could to help her. Perhaps it was to be his penance, for all of the wrong-doing in his youth.

Whatever the reason, whatever the cause, whatever cruel twist of Fate had decided to inflict the same illness on the witch that he had fallen for that his mother was already battling; he wasn't going to back down. His choice had been made, and he was in it for the long haul.

**AN: Sooo... I loved this chapter. What did you think? I almost split it into 2 chapters, but thought, nah, I'll give it to you all at once since you've waited so long already. Don't let the long chapter spoil you, though. LOL. They won't all be this long. :)**


	16. Chapter 16

**AN: First of all, I just want to say that your reviews blow me away. I always look forward to reading them, as much as some of you look forward to these chapter updates. As always, thank you for reading, favoriting, following and reviewing. And another big thanks to Bex for beta reading for me. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Sixteen**

Harry hadn't slept at all Sunday night. After he had returned home from St. Mungo's, he had started drinking. Drinking and cursing Draco Malfoy for being, well, for being Draco Malfoy. The git actually had the nerve to accuse him of pushing Hermione away. Like it was any of Malfoy's business anyway! He had been all set to go find the pointy faced ferret and punch him right in the pointy nose for even suggesting such a thing. That's when the first flash of memory had hit him.

_He was sitting at the dinner table in The Burrow. Most of the Weasley family was there, all except for Fred and Charlie. Ginny was on his right and Hermione was on his left. The table was loud with conversation and laughter, as it usually was. He looked around the table and smiled to himself. He had always wanted a large family and the Weasley's had so easily adopted him as one of their own. He and Hermione both had found a wonderful family. He turned to look at her and noticed that she was rather subdued. Rather than joining in the conversation, she was staring listlessly at her plate. Her fork was pushing the food around, but she wasn't actually eating any of it. _

_He tried to ask her what was wrong, but he found that his tongue was stuck to the roof of him mouth. Every time he would open his mouth to say something, the words simply wouldn't come out. He frowned to himself and tried again, but again he had the same results. He shook his head slightly, just enough that Ginny noticed. She turned and started talking to him. As soon as she did, he forgot all about Hermione and the sad look in her eyes. A little while later, Harry and Ginny left The Burrow. He said a general "Good-bye" to the room, but never looked at Hermione again. If he had turned back to look at her, he would have seen a single tear running down her cheek as she watched him leave without ever acknowledging her. _

That was only the first memory of many that had assaulted him over the course of the night. All of them were the same, but slightly different. All of them were times when Hermione apparently needed him as a friend, and he turned his back on her. Not only did he turn his back on her, but he never thought of it again. When had he started treating her like that? He never remembered treating her poorly until Malfoy had called him out on it. Had he always been such a shitty friend?

With a resigned sigh, he dragged his ass to the shower and stood underneath the steaming hot spray. It was there, under the water, separated from the world, that he was finally able to admit that he was scared. Scared of himself, scared of what he had become to a person that had meant so much to him, scared that she would never forgive him. And it was there that he decided he would make it up to her. No matter what it took, he would find a way to be there for her.

A half an hour later he was sitting alone at his breakfast table when the Daily Prophet was delivered. The story on the front page made his blood boil. After reading the article, he wasn't sure who to go after first. Should he start with Ron, for hurting her the way that he did? Or perhaps he should start at the Prophet and demand a retraction be printed? More importantly, though, he needed to check on Hermione and make sure she was okay.

He hesitated only a moment before grabbing his cloak and heading to the Ministry. The halls were bustling with people on their way in to start their work week. Whispers could be heard down every corridor as the hottest piece of gossip in years spread like wildfire across the building. Everywhere he went people were talking about Hermione and Ron. Harry clenched his fists together and kept walking. He bypassed the lifts to the Auror's office and instead went to the single lift that would take him to the Minister of Magic's office.

The top floor of the Ministry was much quieter than the lower floors. There were a few secretaries setting up their desks for the day, and a couple of department heads that were meandering into their offices, but the whispers, thank Merlin, were nowhere to be heard.

Harry knocked on the Minister's door twice and waited to be acknowledged. He paced nervously in the hallway as he waited, running his hands through his hair and mumbling to himself about how he was going to strangle Ron when he saw him. That's how the Minister found him moments later when he opened the door.

Kingsley watched him carefully for a few long moments before clearing his throat and inviting him to step into the office.

"Mr. Potter. Can I assume that you've seen the Prophet this morning?" The elder wizard motioned to an empty seat before sitting down himself. He couldn't help but notice the agitation of one of his top Aurors.

"Minister. Where is she?" Harry had never been one to beat around the bush, and now it seemed, was no different. He had come to the Minister's office for one singular purpose, to find Hermione.

"Can I assume you're referring to Miss. Granger?" Kingsley leaned back in his chair and eyed the younger man. He had taken a vested interest in Harry Potter when he was only a boy, as so many in their world had done. Unlike the others, though, Kingsley had watched him even after the war was over. He had personally overseen Harry's Auror training, and he had been nothing but proud of the man that Harry had become.

There were a few exceptions to the rule, however. His relationship with Ginny Weasley had been one of them. His relationship with Hermione Granger had been the other. He had watched as the close knit bond between the two of them had slowly begun to unravel. With that in mind, he had a certain level of apprehension regarding Harry's reason for visiting him that morning. Was he there to support her? Or was he there to defend Ron? Sadly, he could say that it could go either way. Even more sadly, though, was that he truly expected it to be the latter.

That's why he held his breath as he waited for Harry's response.

"I need to make sure she's okay. Please, Kingsley, tell me where she is?"

The words shocked him. He hated the fact that they did. A few years ago, he would have been expecting this response, but now. Now things were different, weren't they?

"I can't do that, Mr. Potter." He sat stiffly as his desk, his mind whirling as he tried to figure out why Harry would have such a dramatic change of heart.

"You know where she is." Green eyes narrowed at him, and Kingsley suddenly remember why people in general didn't cross Harry Potter. "I need to see her. I need to explain…things, certain things…I just need…to tell her…and I need to see her."

Harry stood and walked to the window. His hand pulled through his hair nervously and he took a deep breath. Kingsley watched him quietly. He had never seen the Auror quite so flustered before, and he had to admit that he was curious as to what had brought this all on.

"I fucked up, Kingsley. I don't know why, but I know that I did. A lot, actually. But I'm not going to fuck up again. She needs me, and she needs to know that I'm here for her. Even if she doesn't want me on her side, I am, and she needs to know that. I need her to know that." His eyes didn't leave the window as he made one last heartfelt plea to the Minister.

After a long moment of silence, Kingsley sighed deeply before responding.

"I can't tell you where she is. All I can tell you is that, as far as I know, she is safe."

Harry turned away from the window and eyed the Minister wearily.

"What do you mean, as far as you know?"

"Exactly what I said. I haven't had any contact with her. I don't know where she is, and I don't intend to know. It's safer for her right now if I don't know. I can pass along a message to her, if you would like, but aside from that I really can't help you, Harry."

The silence in the office was deafening in that moment. Harry wanted to ask how he would pass a message along, but at the same time, he knew it was pointless to ask at all. Kingsley wouldn't tell him, and it was better for Hermione that he not know. After a long pause, he nodded in agreement before turning towards the door.

With his hand on the knob, he stopped and turned to face his old friend and mentor once again.

"What about Ron? What has he had to say about all this?"

Kingsley rubbed his hand over his face, and for a brief moment Harry was able to see the exhaustion that was consuming him. In the blink of an eye, the look was gone, and he was left to wonder if it had ever been there at all.

"The Wizengamot met early this morning in an emergency session. They decided to bring charges against Mr. Weasley for breaking and entering without just cause, assault, and attempted subjugation. "

"What was that last one?" Harry returned to the chair in front of the desk almost in a daze. He and Ron had their differences, but that was still his best mate they were talking about. It didn't seem right that Ron would ever hurt Hermione like that.

"During the assault, Mr. Weasley attempted to invoke ancient blood magic." Kingsley sighed again. At the bewildered look on Harry's face, he decided he needed to elaborate just a bit. He cleared his throat before finishing. "He tried to bind her soul to his."

Harry's eyes widened. He couldn't be sure exactly what the Minister had meant by that, but he knew it didn't sound good. It didn't sound good at all. It sounded like Ron had tried to take away her free will. He wondered how exactly Ron had made it out of that confrontation unscathed. Surely Hermione hexed him to hell and back for even thinking about doing such a thing?

"Have they picked him up already?" Harry leaned forward in his chair, preparing to stand, expecting the Minister to confirm that he was in a holding cell even now.

"Two teams have been dispatched. One to The Burrow, and one to his flat. So far there hasn't been any luck in finding him."

Harry froze in his seat, halfway between sitting and standing.

"He's still out there?"

Kingsley nodded. It should have been an easy pick. The MLE officers that had gone to his flat were to get him before he left for work. The flat had been empty, though. There was no sign that he had stayed there the night before.

"Does Hermione know?"

"Not yet. I assure you, though, she is perfectly safe."

"You don't even know where she is. How can you assure me she's safe if you don't even know where she is?" Harry could feel the anxiety creeping up in his chest. He felt like he needed to be doing something, anything to help in this matter.

"That is true, Mr. Potter. But I do know the wizard that is protecting her. She trusted him with her life, and so do I."

Harry wanted to ask more questions, but he didn't. Instead, he stood once again and made to leave the office. At the doorway he turned and made one final offer.

"Anything I can do to help, Minister. Just let me know."

Kingsley nodded at him and he walked away, wondering if he had really just seen a look of pride in the Minister's eyes.

Harry entered the Auror bullpen expecting it to be busy and loud and chaotic as it always was on Monday mornings. This morning, though, it was just the opposite. The room was silent, almost too silent. All of the Aurors were standing in a semi-circle near the Head Auror's office. He made his way quietly towards the group and blended into the circle next to Luna. She felt him brush against her arm and she turned her clear blue eyes on him and smiled. It wasn't a bright smile, not this time, but it was a small smile nonetheless.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," the Head Auror, Wesley Edwards, spoke in a clear and crisp voice. "As I'm sure most of you have heard, charges have been made against one of our own. The Wizengamot convened early this morning and voted to indict Mr. Ronald Weasley on charges of breaking and entering, assault and attempted subjugation against Miss. Hermione Granger. These are not charges to be taken lightly.

"In addition, Mr. Weasley is also the number one suspect in the Fiendfyre incident in muggle London yesterday evening. Both of these cases will be handled separately until such time that the investigators determine they are related. Both of these cases will be handled by the MLE rather than the Auror department."

At that, a sound of discontent spread through the small group. Edwards waited for it to quiet down again before continuing.

"I expect each and every one of you to cooperate with the MLE in this matter." His eyes roamed across the Aurors that were standing in front of him, but they paused for a long moment when he was looking straight at Harry. "Any one that has information on Mr. Weasley's whereabouts either now or yesterday needs to come forward immediately and divulge the information. Am I clear?"

There was a small muttering throughout the group, but all of them had seemed to agree with what their department head was telling them.

"Good. On a different, but related matter, Miss Hermione Granger has been listed as missing. No one has seen or heard from her since her report was filed on Saturday. All attempts at reaching her, either by owl or patronus, have been returned. There are two teams currently sifting through the rubble of her apartment building, but so far they have found no trace of her." He paused to let the information sink in, and once again Harry found Edwards to be staring right at him. "It has been two days since last contact. Potter, your team will be in charge of locating Miss Granger. Standard operating procedure is to start by tracking her wand."

Harry swallowed thickly, but nodded to his department head.

"Sir, if I may," Harry asked tentatively. "Who filed the missing person report?"

Edwards gave him a slightly confused look, as though Harry should have already known that answer to that particular question. He cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

"Ginerva Weasley filed the report."

Most of the Aurors accepted this answer without a moment's hesitation. Ginny and Hermione were friends, after all. That's what most people thought. Only the people closest to them knew that wasn't necessarily true.

Harry felt Luna stiffen beside him and he glanced down at her. She looked at him at the same time and their eyes locked. They seemed to have a silent conversation in that moment. A conversation in which they agreed it was highly unlikely that Ginny would have filed a missing person report on Hermione out of the kindness of her heart.

"Sir," a junior Auror named Jacobs asked hesitantly. "Is there any indication that the Daily Prophet had it right? That Miss Granger falsified the report and released the Fiendfyre herself?"

Edwards, along with Harry and Luna, glared at the young woman.

"The Wizengamot doesn't seem to think so. Until hard evidence is given to the contrary, we operate on the report on file. It will be up to the MLE to determine if anything different occurred. And I would warn you all not to believe everything you read, especially if you are reading it in the Prophet. Now back to work, all of you."

The impromptu meeting broke up and the Aurors scattered to their desks. Harry pulled Luna aside and let his eyes wander across the room.

"Where is Nott?" he asked when he didn't find the third member of their team anywhere in the room.

"Oh, he volunteered to go search the scene of the fire. He left before the meeting started with a few of the other guys." She spoke in the same airy tone she always had, and Harry felt soothed by it. He felt like it was just another day at the office, even though he knew it really wasn't.

"Right. So it's just you and me, then." As soon as he said the words, he cringed. He hadn't meant for them to sound like that.

The only indication she gave of noticing the double entendre was a small smile and a slight blush to her cheeks. Then she looked up at him through her long eyelashes. His breath caught in his throat and it took him a long moment to remember that he needed to breathe. He had to force himself to turn away from her and walk towards his desk. He didn't see the small smirk on her face, or the way she bit into her bottom lip as she watched him go.

"So where do we start? We can't trace her wand, obviously." Luna slid into her chair across from Harry. She opened a small container containing various fruit that had been cut up and prepared. Using a small plastic fork, she selected a piece of melon first and chewed it thoughtfully.

"Obviously not. As soon as we put a trace on her wand, every Auror in the department has access to it, including Ron." Harry opened the file in front of him. It was the missing person report that Ginny had filled out Sunday evening.

"How much does Ginny know about Auror SOP's?" Luna selected a grape next and popped it into her mouth.

Harry had heard her question, but he was too busy reading through the report to answer her.

_Hermione was supposed to meet me at the club Saturday night, but she never showed up. I went by her house and tried to owl her, but couldn't find her anywhere. This morning, I checked again, but she wasn't there. I've asked all of our friends and family, and no one has heard from her or seen her since Friday at work. She hasn't been home. She hasn't been to her lab. It's very unusual for her. I'm worried that something has happened to her or she's done something crazy. She's not entirely stable right now, as evidenced by her breaking up with Ron for no reason this week. She's confused and not acting like herself at all, and now she's just disappeared._

He rolled his eyes at the blatant falsehood that was depicted by the report. By all accounts, it seemed to be one friend that was concerned for another friend. He knew better than that. He could see the insinuations. Ginny wasn't quite as subtle as she thought she was. He also knew now, without a doubt in his mind, who the 'source' for the Daily Prophet article was.

"Why do you suppose Edwards gave us this case?" Luna picked a strawberry to eat next. "A missing person case like this, with no evidence of foul play, should be MLE jurisdiction."

"Someone burned her building to the ground using Fiendfyre. Doesn't that suggest foul play to you?" Harry finally looked up from the report to see her smiling softly at him.

"There is no evidence that the two are connected." Luna shrugged and continued eating her fruit.

"No, there isn't." Harry closed the file and rubbed the scar on his forehead. It no longer hurt him as it did during the war, but he found it had become habit when he was stressed out. "It feels like it's all connected, though, doesn't it?"

The two of them contemplated the task that had been handed to them for a long moment in silence. When Luna was finished eating her fruit, they both stood from their desks and made their way towards the lifts. They didn't discuss where they would start looking, or what their first step should be. They had worked together long enough to know that neither one of them wanted to discuss any of their tactics in the bullpen. There were too many ears there.

Before they made it to the lifts, Harry saw someone that caught his attention. Malfoy had just entered the department and was standing at his desk, reading some kind of memo, with a look of sheer anger on his face. Harry watched him as he crumpled up the parchment in one hand and dropped it in the waste basket before turning around and stomping back across the room towards the lifts.

His eyes met Harry's when he was only meters away.

"What are you looking at, Potter?" Malfoy shouldered past him without waiting for a response and pushed his way onto the lift that had just opened up. Luna slid into the lift beside him, and Harry stepped in as well just as the door was getting ready to close. The three of them were silent as the lift began to move.

"Everything alright there, Malfoy? You look like somebody just kicked your puppy."

Draco glared at the dark haired wizard.

"Fine. Everything's fine. And I don't have a puppy." His hands clenched into fists. On top of everything else that had happened that day, he did not need to deal with Potter on top of it all.

Luna giggled at his response.

"That's not what he meant, Draco. He meant you look quite upset."

He turned his glare to the blonde witch and rolled his eyes. He knew that. He didn't need her to explain the metaphor.

"I'm curious about something, Malfoy." Harry leaned against the side of the lift and waited only a few heartbeats before he continued. "You said when you left the building fire yesterday that you were too weak to apparate. Were you injured?"

"I thought that was implied, Potter." He glared at the numbers on the lift, willing them to drop faster.

"Yet, there wasn't a record of you being treated at St. Mungo's."

Draco looked at him, then, and tried to size him up. Why would he be so curious about Draco's account of events? The Aurors weren't even handling this case. He debated whether or not to give any information, but he was curious enough to see where Potter was going with this line of questioning.

"I went home. Maya is rather good at healing spells. She took care of me." He allowed himself a small smirk, which grew slightly bigger at the look of confusion on his rival's face.

"Maya?"

There it was. Draco knew he wouldn't be able to resist. He smirked again. If only he could tell the spectacled prat who Maya really was, he would love to see the look on Potter's face. Someday. He would get to see that look someday.

"My girlfriend, Potter. Are you writing a book or something?"

The lift finally reached the main floor and the door opened. Draco stepped out of the lift quickly before Harry could respond. Harry followed him out of the lift, but merely stood and watched as the blond vanished into the crowd.

"He seemed happy today." Luna was also watching as Malfoy walked away. She only turned back to Harry when she felt his incredulous eyes on her. She lifted her shoulder in a small shrug. "Well, he didn't hex you, did he?"

Harry rolled his eyes at her logic. No, Malfoy hadn't hexed him, but that hardly meant that he was happy, of all things.

"Come on. Let's go check Hermione's lab. Maybe she left a clue as to where she would have gone."

The two stepped back into the lift, alone this time, and rode in silence down to the lower basement level. When the doors opened once again, Harry stepped aside and let Luna step out first. He then followed behind her as they made their way down the narrow hallway.

She stopped in front of the last door on the left and hesitated a moment before knocking quietly and pushing the door open. It swung open without any hesitation.

"What in Merlin's name…?" Harry walked into the dark room first. He couldn't believe what he saw inside.

Nothing. He saw absolutely nothing in the room.

The shelves were empty. The desk was bare. The tables were spotless.

"Is this the right lab? She didn't move somewhere else, did she?" Luna asked in a small voice. It pained her to admit, but this was only the second time she'd ever stepped foot into Hermione's domain. The first time had been over two years ago, when she helped bring boxes of books in to arrange on the shelves.

Harry swallowed thickly as he pivoted around on the balls of his feet. There had to be some explanation for this. He could have sworn this was her lab, although he couldn't remember the last time he had been down there.

Suddenly, a new memory hit him. He watched it play out as though he was right there; as though it were happening in that very moment.

_Hermione was sitting in her desk chair. She was telling him and Ron about a little known disease called PCS. He could tell she was nervous by the way her hands shook and she kept rubbing her temples. Ron was ignoring her completely. Harry was trying to pay attention, but his mind kept wandering also. In a moment of clarity, he looked into his friend's eyes and saw something that he hadn't seen there before. Even after everything they had been through together, all of their various adventures, and fighting side by side in a war, he had never seen a look of sheer terror in her eyes before. He paid closer attention, then, to what she was saying. He wanted to go to her, pull her into his chest and tell her it would be okay. He wanted to, but he didn't. Instead, he sat there and watched her and listened to her describing various symptoms that would eventually lead to death. _

_He watched in horror as she uttered those words, those simple yet terrifying words. "I'm in stage two, now. In two years, more or less, I'll transition to stage three." Her brown eyes met his and he felt the pull to go to her even stronger. It's what he should have done. She needed him to hold her and tell her she would be okay. She needed to know that he was there for her._

_He didn't move. He tried to. He willed his body to go into motion, but still he sat there as the seconds stretched into minutes. _

"_If any of that were true, we would have heard about it before now. You aren't dying, 'Mione. It's all in your head. We all have our own issues after the war, you know. Just because you were tortured and we weren't, you didn't suffer more than I did. I lost my brother. What did you lose?" Ron glared at her before stomping out of the room and slamming the door behind him. _

_Tears were streaming down her face when Harry looked at her again. Again, he willed himself to move. Frustrated with himself, he sighed and ran his hands through his hair. _

"_There isn't a cure?" He asked. She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head 'no'. _

"_You'll find one. I know you will." He nodded at her once, and even though he still wanted to hug her and tell her she would be okay, he found himself walking away from her instead. Once he was in the hallway, he turned back and looked at the door again. He should go back in. He knew he should. He could feel it, that he needed to be in that room. He just couldn't remember why. And so, instead of going back inside, he turned and walked away. _

The pain of that memory brought him to his knees.

The memory of her telling him about her illness, of him walking out the door without giving her any support whatsoever. The same door he was looking at now. He knew then, the last time he had been in this room was the day that Hermione had told him she was dying, and he had walked away.

He felt like he was going to be sick. His stomach turned uncomfortably and he just knew that at any minute his meager breakfast would make a dramatic reappearance. He closed his eyes and counted to ten, willing his food to stay where it was, concentrating on breathing, and forcing himself to face the guilt that was slowly eating away at him.

Small arms wrapped around him. He allowed Luna to hold him as he focused on breathing.

"It's okay, Harry. We're going to find her. We are. I'm sure she's fine." Luna whispered soothing words in his ear as she held him and rocked him back and forth gently.

_She's not okay. _

_She's not fine. _

_She's alone. _

_She's all alone and it's all my fault. _

_I walked away from her when she needed me the most. _

_I'm a monster. _

_There is something wrong with me. _

_She will never forgive me._

_I will never forgive myself._

Luna held him tighter, unaware of the internal struggle that he was facing, unaware of the guilt that was slowly eating away at him.

**AN: Ack! No Dramione this chapter, but we'll get back to them soon enough. What do you think is going on with Harry? **


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: It's been longer than normal, I know and I'm sorry. Real life and some personal upheaval distracts from writing sometimes. Don't give up on me, though. This story will be finished. I promise. **

**As always, thanks for reading, for reviewing and for favoriting this story. **

**The Journal**

**Chapter Seventeen**

Draco had reluctantly left Hermione at his house, sorting through the boxes of research that Blaise and the Minister had packed up. He hadn't wanted to leave. Even now he could still see the look of utter disbelief on her face when she realized he wasn't going to walk out on her. He hadn't let himself think about her diagnosis yet. He knew he would have to, and soon, but he simply did not have time just then. There were too many other things going on at the moment.

He walked through the halls of the Ministry quickly, ignoring the whispers of gossip that could be heard at every turn. He knew that article would be on everyone's tongues that day. It's one of the reasons he insisted that she stay at home. Not that it was her home. Of course, she didn't really have a home anymore, did she? He shook his head against the errant thought just as he sat down at his desk.

There was a copy of the morning's report lying on his desk. It was something Cho Chang had implemented when she became secretary of the MLE. Every morning she would type up a brief review of the open cases in the department. Every MLE agent got a copy of the report daily. At first the older agents had scoffed at the idea and thrown the reports in the trash bin. Soon it had become evident that it was an asset to the department, though. Now even the older agents looked forward to the reports and found them useful.

Draco picked it up and glanced over it quickly. After spotting Hermione's name on the parchment, he slowed down and re-read the report.

_Perp: Ronald Weasley_

_Charges: Breaking and entering, assault, attempted subjugation_

_Indictment filed_

_Notes: 2 teams dispatched to apprehend Mr. Weasley. He is still at large._

_Reporting Agent: Blaise Zabini_

_Perp: Unknown_

_Charges: Use of dark magic that resulted in the deaths of seven muggles, use of magic in view of muggles_

_Investigation: Ongoing_

_Notes: Team Alpha is heading the investigation_

_Reporting Agent: Draco Malfoy_

_Additional Notes: All agents are to be on the lookout for Ronald Weasley. He is to be considered unstable and possibly dangerous. Hermione Granger has been reported as missing following the report filed on Saturday against Mr. Weasley. Any contact should be reported immediately. The Auror department is handling the missing person case._

Draco crumbled the paper up in his hand and dropped it into the waste basket. He had already turned and stalked towards the lifts before the implications really hit him. Weasley was still out there, and with Hermione listed as missing, every Auror in the department would be looking for her. If nothing else, he needed to warn her of these developments.

He was unfortunate enough to get into the lift with Potter and Lovegood. He cursed himself for that on the ride down to the atrium, but couldn't resist smirking to himself when he told a very oblivious Harry Potter that Maya had healed him. One of these days he would make the connection that Maya was Hermione, and when that happened Draco really hoped he would be there to see it.

He stepped through the floo and back into his sitting room, dusting himself off even as he took the steps two at a time on his way to the lab upstairs. When he reached the landing on the stairway, he felt a tingling at the base of his spine. It was an instinct that he had developed over the years that told him he was being watched. He looked up quickly and was surprised to see Hermione standing at the top of the stairs with her wand pointed at him. He froze with his hands in the air in front of him.

"Draco! You scared the shit out of me!" She released a nervous laugh and lowered her wand. "What are you doing back here so soon? You haven't even been gone for an hour!"

He took a deep breath, realizing that he had been only seconds away from being hexed.

"There were important developments. I needed to tell you about them."

She stepped back to allow him to climb the rest of the stairs and stand beside her.

"I don't like the sound of that. Should I sit down?" She arched an eyebrow at him and crossed her arms over her chest. It was a small movement, but one that he clearly interpreted as her being nervous. She was smart enough to realize that if he rushed back home to give her information, it couldn't be good.

His bedroom was the closest to where they were standing, so it was only natural for him to lead her there. They sat down on the small loveseat that was positioned in front of his fireplace.

"The indictment came through. When the agents went to his flat to pick him up, he wasn't there. They don't know where he is."

Her eyes widened. He was still out there somewhere.

"There's more. A missing person's report has been filed on you. The Auror's are officially looking for you."

She swallowed thickly. That seemed like something Ron would do. Ever the strategist, he of course would use the Auror department to flush her out.

"They won't find you here. I promise." Draco placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. "They won't," he assured her once again.

She leaned into him and placed her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

"I need to go to Mungo's and see Blaise and my mother. I'll be back in an hour or so." He hated to leave again, but he really needed to see his partner. She understood. He knew that she would.

"Take the journal with you? That way I can contact you if I need to? Or the other way around." Her voice was much stronger than he expected it to be. When he glanced down at her he wasn't expecting to see big brown eyes filled with sadness looking back at him.

"I will. And I'll be right back. I promise." He pushed the curls away from her face and kissed her softly. Before he could talk himself into staying, he stood and walked away.

* * *

Moments later he was once again walking the hallways of St. Mungo's. He knocked twice on a non-descript door before pushing it open and stepping inside.

Blaise was lying on the bed, staring out the window when Draco walked in and sat down in the rather uncomfortable chair by his side.

"I see you survived." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his foot over his knee. He may not have shown it outwardly, but he was extremely relieved to see his friend and partner alive and well. "We weren't sure you were going to there for a bit."

"I could say the same for you. Who would have thought it? Draco Malfoy braving burning buildings and dark magic to save muggles." Blaise was also glad to see that his partner had made it out of the building unscathed, although that fact was easily hidden by the sarcastic tone in his voice.

"That's rich coming from Blaise Zabini, who could have easily apparated out of the way of the falling building but instead risked his own ass to save muggle children."

Blaise smirked at his friend. To an outsider it may seem as though the two were criticizing each other. In actuality, it was just the way they communicated. It always had been.

"Speaking of, where is Wendy? Is she okay? Did they obliviate her?"

"The girl? As far as I know she's still here. Lovegood said she was wanting to see you last night. I can let the healer's know to bring her in if you want?"

Blaise nodded his head and went back to staring out the window when Draco stepped out of the room. When he returned, Blaise continued to stare out the window, but still spoke to the blond wizard next to him.

"Draco Malfoy braving burning buildings and dark magic to save his girlfriend, now that one I'd believe." The sarcasm was gone from his voice this time, and the silence that fell over the room following his words was thick.

Draco joined his friend in staring out the window. They were on the third floor of the hospital, so all they could really see outside was a gray sky and a light mist that was falling from the clouds. He contemplated how he could respond to the unasked question that hung in the air between them for a long moment before clearing his throat.

"I've been talking to her for months now." He could feel Blaise's eyes snap over to watch him, but he didn't turn away from the window. "Writing to her, actually. Anonymously, in this."

He pulled the journal out of the pocket in his cloak and handed it to his friend. Blaise picked it up and flipped through the pages. They were all blank.

"Is this a joke?" His eyebrows came together and he glared at his partner before thrusting the book back into the other man's hands.

"No, it isn't a joke." He opened the journal and wrote down a few words, making sure that Blaise could see as he wrote.

"_Blaise is awake. He says to tell you hello."_

Zabini watched in wonder as the words disappeared into the parchment. His eyes widened again as different words, in a different script appeared.

"_Please tell him that I'm glad he's okay." _

"That's brilliant." He picked the book up and inspected it quietly. "Her work, I'm assuming?"

"Of course." Draco took the journal back and wrote in it once more.

"_I will. I'll be home soon."_ He closed the book and slipped it back inside his cloak.

"She didn't know it was me she was talking to. Not until earlier today. If she hadn't walked up to our table last week, I probably would not have had the nerve to tell her." He ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply. He knew he wouldn't have ever told her, and he would have regretted it for the rest of his life.

"I got to know her, the real her, not the facade that she shows to the public. There are things that I know about her that no one else knows, and the other way around. The truth of the matter is that I care about her, deeply. More than I ever thought was possible." His eyes held Blaise's for a long moment, burning into them, begging him to understand how important this was. "I need to know if you have a problem with that."

Blaise took a deep breath. Whatever he had expected to hear from his friend, that certainly wasn't it. He couldn't deny the passion in Draco's eyes, though. And after everything they had been through, Draco deserved to be happy.

"Does she know how you feel?" He didn't exactly answer the question, but he would get around to that later. He needed some answers first.

"More or less. A lot has happened in the last two days." He couldn't help but remember what it had felt like to kiss her. That's not what he told Blaise, though. Instead he launched into a neat summary of where they stood on the case and how the fire fit into it, ending with the missing person's file on Hermione and the fact that Weasley was still out there.

Blaise whistled to himself as Draco wrapped up the story. Before he had a chance to respond, though, the door opened and a young blonde girl poked her head around the corner. Blaise's eyes lit up when he saw her and his face broke out into a large grin.

"Wendy! You're okay?"

She didn't hesitate to run across the room and throw herself into the waiting arms of the man that had saved her life.

"Blaise! I was so scared that you would die too!" She clung to him like a drowning man would cling to a life raft.

Draco watched the exchange with wide eyes. Blaise Zabini, who detested children, was holding this small muggle girl and telling her that she would be okay, that no, he didn't die, and that yes, magic had fixed his legs just like it had fixed hers. It was all very touching. After a long few moments, the girl turned and looked at him. Her eyes widened and she jumped out of Blaise' arms and into Draco's lap.

"I know you! You're the one that led us out of the building. William said you weren't real. He said you wouldn't be able to breathe with a fishbowl on your head. How did you get out before the building fell down? I was watching for you but you never came out."

"Wendy, is it?" He looked down at the little girl and could have sworn he was looking at a young Hermione. Her hair was light blonde rather than brown, but it was frizzed all over the place. Her blue eyes were piercing, though, and she was obviously waiting for him to answer her questions. "Yes, I led you out of the building. I was able to use magic just as the building started to fall down and a very good friend of mine healed my injuries, just like the healers here at St. Mungo's healed yours."

"Magic can't heal everything, though." Her eyes fell and the grip she had on her teddy bear tightened. "Magic couldn't heal William. Or my mum."

Draco and Blaise looked at each other in surprise. Neither of them had seen the list of muggles that died, they had only been told that there were seven that perished.

"What about your dad, Wendy? Was he there, too?"

She shook her head slowly.

"I don't have a dad anymore. He left us a long time ago." Her eyes welled up with tears that slowly started to run down her cheeks.

"What about grandparents? Do you see them often? Or Aunts and Uncles?"

"I don't have any other family. It was just me and William and Mum. Now I guess it's just me."

Blaise pulled her back over to the bed and wrapped his arm around her protectively.

"We know how you feel, Wendy. I'm alone as well, and Draco's Mum is very sick. Don't you worry on it. You'll be just fine, and we'll make sure of that. My house is huge, much too big for just me to live there by myself. There is plenty of room for you, if you would like?"

"Uh, mate, do you really think that's a good idea?" Draco cleared his throat and leaned forward. "She's a muggle."

Wendy giggled as she wiped the tears away from her eyes.

"No. Blaise says I'm a witch and one day I'm going to make a fine Gryffindor, just like Miss. Minney."

Draco looked to Blaise for confirmation.

"Mark my words, Draco. In another year she'll have her Hogwarts letter."

"In that case, you'll need the proper paperwork to adopt the girl." At these words, all three of them looked up to see the Minister of Magic standing in the doorway. "I'll have it sent over right away."

"Thank you, Minister." Blaise wasn't supposed to stand up for another twenty four hours, so he remained lying on the bed.

"Mr. Malfoy. I trust you delivered my message safely?"

Draco did stand, and offered the chair to the Minister.

"Of course. Whether it was read or not, I couldn't say." Hermione had looked at the scroll for a long time before slipping it into her beaded bag. It was possible she was just waiting for him to leave before she opened it.

"Good, good. I have some light reading for you, if you are up to it?" He watched Draco carefully, noticing the way his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed together.

"Of course, Minister." He was curious enough to agree to read whatever Kingsley wanted him to read. The man didn't do anything without a reason, so he was sure there would be a good reason for this.

He pulled a thin pamphlet out of his robes and handed it to Draco.

"Section three is most enlightening, Mr. Malfoy. Now, Mr. Zabini, it is very good to see you awake and looking well. Both of you can feel free to take the rest of the week off." He stood and took two steps towards the door before turning back around and holding his hand out to the young girl that had been watching him during his visit, but hadn't yet said a word to him. "Miss Wendy. It was lovely to meet you. I look forward to seeing you again."

Her eyes widened and a large smile broke across her face. She took his hand and shook it vigorously, then he turned away and was gone.

"Who was that? He looked really important."

"That was the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Draco stopped listening to the two of them as he opened the pamphlet the Minister had given him. His eyes widened as he read the title and realized what he was looking at.

_Standard Operating Procedures for Aurors, Section 3 – Missing persons_

He skimmed over the procedures quickly before shutting the pamphlet and hiding it in his cloak.

"I've got to go, mate. I'll see you later, yeah?" He didn't wait for a response before leaving the room and stepping into the closest floo he could find.

* * *

Hermione had finally managed to get her files into some semblance of order. Whoever had packed them hadn't put any of it together right. After she had it all sorted, she sat down and started reading through her notes once again. Maybe she had missed something. Maybe her one illusive ingredient wasn't needed after all.

She began by writing out the ingredients she already had, each on a separate piece of parchment. Then for each ingredient she made a list of other ingredients that had the same properties. Perhaps she could find a different combination of ingredients for her final formula that would work without needing the one item that seemed to not exist at all.

She was working furiously on her lists when Draco returned home. In fact, she was so focused that she didn't hear the floo alarm she had set up. She didn't hear him walking up the stairs, and she certainly didn't hear him walk into the lab.

He stopped just inside the doorway and watched her. She was focused on the papers laid out in front of her. Her quill was scratching quickly across the parchment. Her hair was tossed back over her shoulder and her teeth were digging into her bottom lip as she concentrated on her work. He had always loved watching her work. As the moment stretched on, he knew he would have to say something soon. Otherwise she might look up and catch him staring at her.

"Did you find something?" he asked as he moved closer to her table, startling her from her work. She jumped backwards in her chair. Her hand flew up to cover her heart and a small scream filled the air.

"Dammit, Draco! Don't scare me like that!" She glared at him. "You're liable to get hexed next time!"

"I thought you put an alarm up so you would hear me come through the floo?" He smirked at her, completely unapologetic. He sauntered over to stand behind her and glanced at the papers laid out in front of her. "So, did you find something?" he asked again.

"No. I'm just trying a new approach." Her focus returned to the list she had been working on, but she watched him out of the corner of her eye as he sat down in the chair next to hers and picked up the nearest parchment.

"So how is Blaise? Really?"

"Completely bonkers." He rolled his eyes and picked up a quill. "He's decided to adopt the girl he nearly got killed trying to save."

He began carefully listing out ingredients that could be substituted for moonweed. Hermione saw him writing and smiled to herself. She hadn't asked him for help, but he was willing to help her anyway. Later she would realize that no one else had ever done that for her. She was always the one that was expected to help everyone else. She was the one that was expected to have all the answers.

"That's very sweet of Blaise, but I thought the girl he saved was a muggle?"

"He seems to think she's a witch, muggleborn." He shrugged his shoulders and concentrated on the list he was working on. He didn't notice when Hermione stiffened in her seat beside him.

"Wendy?" she asked quietly. "Her mum died in the fire?"

He stopped writing and looked at her. He could sense her sadness and her guilt. Leave it to a Gryffindor to feel guilty about something like this. She hadn't even been there!

"And her brother." He didn't offer her comfort. She already knew that muggles had died in the fire and subsequent building collapse. Feeling guilty about it would not give them their lives back. There was nothing she could have done to save them, and there was certainly nothing she could do about it now either.

She cleared her throat and pushed her hair back behind her ears.

"She isn't a muggleborn." Her voice was quiet and she didn't look at him. Instead she remained focused on her list, writing yet another substitute for dragon's blood. "Her father was a muggleborn wizard. From what I could gather, he either died or disappeared during the war."

Draco watched her for a long moment. She seemed to have shaken off the guilt. He knew it was still there, buried deep down somewhere, but for now she was ignoring it rather well. He contemplated the information she had given him for a moment longer, then he returned to the list in front of him. The next time either of them stopped was nearly an hour later when the clock chimed on two o'clock.

"Shouldn't you be at work?" Hermione asked as they both stretched out their back muscles.

"I am. Hard at work, actually. My assignment for the remainder of the week is to make sure the Aurors, namely your ex and his best buddy, don't find you." He stood up from the table and held his hand out to her. "That reminds me, I need your wand."

She backed away from him quickly. She had been ready to take his proffered hand, until she realized he hadn't been offering to help her up from her chair. Instead he wanted to take her source of power, her source of protection away.

"What? Why?" She pulled the wand out of its holster quickly. He was surprised that she didn't aim it at him, but she did grip it tightly.

"Relax, Maya. The first thing Potter will do is trace your wand. We'll put it somewhere safe, so you can get it in an emergency, but you won't be tempted to use it otherwise."

She bit into her lip as she thought about what he said. She had known the Aurors would be able to trace her wand, that's why she had limited the amount of magic she was using already. There were little things, though, that she had gotten used to using magic to accomplish, like drying her hair or warming up her tea. Reluctantly she relaxed her grip on her wand and handed it to Draco.

He smiled at her, one of the most brilliant smiles she had ever seen. They both knew that she had done more than simply hand over her wand. She had completely and totally given him her trust, not in words, but in action. For Hermione Granger, a self-admitted control freak, to willingly give up her biggest source of power, and to give it up to him, no less, of her own free will. No, he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face if he had tried.

His smile was contagious. She smiled back at him, and laughed to break the tension in the room.

"Come on Malfoy. I don't know about you, but I'm starving." It took no small amount of effort on her part to walk away from him. She knew if she didn't walk away, she would certainly have kissed him. And if she had kissed him in that moment, she probably would not have stopped kissing him.

**AN: I hope you liked this chapter. Feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think. **

**Happy Halloween everyone! **

**-mezy**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: My sincerest apologies for such a long period of time since my last update. I changed jobs in December which was a great move for me, but seriously cut down on my writing time! You can expect slow updates, but hopefully not nearly this long between them again! **

**Thank you all for sticking with me and sending me notes asking if I plan to finish this story. I do, it will just take me longer to do it than I had originally planned. :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope it was worth the wait.**

**The Journal**

**Chapter Eighteen**

**(Finally!)**

Hermione and Draco took a short break for lunch before returning to the lab and continuing their work. For several long hours they worked side by side until finally the lists they had been working on were complete. Night had fallen when Hermione finally set her quill down and declared it was time to stop for the night.

Draco was surprised by the late hour. Working on the project had taken all his focus and he hadn't realized how much time had passed.

"I need to go to St. Mungo's. I haven't seen Mother yet today," he told her as he helped her put the books away that were scattered across the table.

"Of course." Hermione smiled at him as she pushed her hair behind her ears. "Go. I'll pull something together for dinner while you're gone."

He left soon after. Though he was going to see his mother, his thoughts were solely on the brunette witch that had managed to worm her way into his heart.

The hospital room was the same as always. Bland, boring and empty. The bed was in the middle of the room. There was a machine monitoring her vitals on one side of the bed, and a chair on the other side. Draco had spent many hours sitting in that chair over the last several weeks. He sat in the chair again, settling into the familiar and slightly uncomfortable cushion. He saw her lying there in the bed, covered with the rough cream colored blanket with her hair fanning out behind her on the pillow. He studied her pale skin and the sunken eyes that hadn't opened in weeks. He watched as her chest slowly rose and fell under the blanket.

He sighed deeply before reaching out and wrapping his hand around her cold, frail fingers.

"Mother," his voice broke slightly and he cleared his throat before trying again.

"Mother, I know you want to give up, but you can't. Not yet. We're working on a cure. Maya, she's brilliant, Mother, and she's almost got it figured out. I'm helping her now and we're going to find it soon. I promise. You just have to hang in there a little while longer. Please, Mother. I'm not ready to lose you yet."

He squeezed her fingers a little tighter and he ignored the tears that were slowly trickling down his face.

He knew that she was going to die. It was a reality that he thought he had come to terms with. It was something that he didn't have a choice in; that he didn't have any control over.

Truthfully, that was still true. He still didn't have any control. He could help Hermione with the cure, but if she didn't hold on long enough, it wouldn't matter. Not for her, anyway.

He sat there for a long while as he tried to curb his feelings. It wasn't the first time he had broken down since his mother had been diagnosed with PCS. It would probably not be the last time, either. It seemed different this time, though. It was different this time. This time he wasn't just thinking about his mother; this time he was also thinking about Hermione. He was picturing her lying in the bed in front of him instead of Narcissa, and he knew without a doubt that if they didn't find a cure that's exactly where she would be.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before the journal, which he had set on the bedside table, started to glow. He wiped his face clean and took a deep breath before opening the front cover.

"_Is everything okay?_" It wasn't until he read her message that he looked at the time and realized he had been there for over two hours, lost in deep thought.

"_Fine. I just lost track of time." _

"_Dinner has been ready for a while now. Take your time, but I can't wait much longer to eat."_

He remembered all too well what happened the last time she put off eating for too long. She had passed out in the middle of the cafeteria. Of course, it had all worked out well for him. That had been the first time he was able to hold her in his arms. Even though it had scared him to no end, at the same time it had been a perfect moment. He shook his head quickly to dispel the memory before responding to her.

"_Go ahead and eat. I'll be home soon._"

Over the last several weeks, ever since he had gotten up the nerve to write to her on that first night, he had spent many hours sitting in the same chair by his mother's side writing in the journal and waiting patiently for her to respond. He liked to pretend in those moments that she knew who she was communicating with, and that it didn't bother her at all that it was him. He imagined it, but he never truly believed it.

"_Don't rush. I'll leave yours in the kitchen for when you get home."_

He ran his fingers lightly over her words. She knew it was him. She was waiting for him at home. At his home.

"She accepts me. Can you believe that?" He squeezed his mother's hand gently. How he wished that she could answer him. He sighed deeply to himself, knowing that she wasn't able to respond. What would she say if she could, he wondered? Would she approve of Hermione? Or would she be disappointed that the woman he had fallen for was muggle-born?

He stood up and stretched his back muscles before leaning over and giving her a small kiss on the forehead. It was only as he started to back away from her that he noticed something odd. In her other hand, the one he hadn't been holding onto for hours, there seemed to be something held between her fingers.

Slowly he reached over and slid the piece of crumpled parchment out of her loose grasp. His fingers were trembling as he unfolded the parchment. He stared at the words that were written across the paper in a sloppy script, re-reading them twice before their meaning sank in.

"_I know she's with you. So does he. She isn't as safe as you think she is. Tell her: wanting to react but unable to do so, memory loss, duration 2-3 years, function and memories slowly returning, guilt, heartache. She will understand. Keep her safe, ferret."_

He read the noteonce more before slipping it between the pages of the journal and leaving the room quickly. He wasn't sure what it all meant, but Hermione would know.

The floo seemed to take forever before it dropped him into his own sitting room. He dusted himself off quickly and moved through the house yelling out her name. She didn't answer and he started to panic. What if the note was right? What if she somehow wasn't safe in his home? What if Weasley had found her while he was gone? The anxiety in his chest mounted as he knocked quickly on her bedroom door and swung the door open without waiting for an answer.

"Hermione?" He had already taken three steps into the room before he managed to look around the room. His eyes met her startled ones. A sense of relief washed over him as he realized she was there and she was okay. He exhaled a long sigh. Then his eyes drifted down from hers. That's when he realized she was standing there in nothing but a towel, clutched tightly to her chest. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and the tendrils clung to her skin. Her chest was rising quickly, the only evidence that he had startled her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." he started to back away when she seemed to regain her senses.

"What's wrong, Draco? What happened?" She took several steps closer to him, despite her lack of clothing. She knew he wouldn't have barged in like that if it wasn't important.

"It can wait," he mumbled as he turned to leave. Her hand on his wrist stopped him, though, and he turned back to face her again. She was standing so close to him that it took his breath away.

"It can't. Tell me." Her words were quiet but strong, leaving him no room for arguments. Rather than trying to fight with her, he simply nodded before opening the journal and handing her the note.

She opened it slowly, keeping her eyes on his for a long moment before looking down and reading the words that were scribbled on the parchment. She recognized the handwriting immediately.

"I found that in my mother's hospital room."

She sat down slowly on the edge of her bed as she read the note. Draco sat next to her and leaned close so he could read the note again over her shoulder.

"It's from Harry." Her words were almost whispered. In her mind she was trying to puzzle out what he was talking about..._wanting to react but unable to do so, memory loss, duration 2-3 years, function and memories slowly returning, guilt, heartache. _"I think he wants to help?"

Draco looked at her incredulously. She couldn't be serious?

"Help? You came to me because you knew he wouldn't help. You said he would be on Weasley's side."

She stood up and paced away from him in frustration. She knew he was right, but Harry had been trying to tell her something, something important.

"What if..." she continued to pace while her hands twisted her wet hair into a messy bun on the back of her neck and her teeth chewed gently on her lower lip. "What if he was never really on Ron's side? What if he was being controlled somehow?"

She turned to face Draco, knowing that he would disagree with her. What she saw instead, though, was him reading the note again with a pensive look on his face.

"It might be possible. He said something to me the other day at St. Mungo's that seemed odd. He said that he wanted to repair his friendship with you. When I told him it was his fault that it was broken, he looked at me like I was crazy. He didn't have any idea what I was talking about."

Hermione stood by the window and peered out through the drapes into the courtyard below. She had a single strand of hair that hadn't quite made it into the bun at the nape of her neck and she twirled it slowly around her finger as she contemplated Harry's behavior.

Draco watched her, a sinking feeling in his gut as he thought that maybe she was regretting coming to him for help.

"Why now?" She asked suddenly, her eyes never leaving the window. "Why would he come forward now?"

He crossed the room and stood behind her, his hands slowly wrapping around her waist and pulling her back against his chest. The towel she was wrapped in was damp against his clothes and water droplets still peppered her shoulders, just inviting him to lick them off. He refrained. Barely.

"Maybe that isn't the right question. You are absolutely gorgeous. Do you have any idea?" His hands gripped her tighter and he inhaled her scent deeply.

Hermione seemed to realize then, just how vulnerable she was, standing in his arms with nothing but a towel covering her body. Instead of being nervous or uncomfortable, though, she found herself leaning into him, gasping quietly at his intensity.

"Draco, are you having a hard time concentrating on the question at hand?" A small lilt lifted her voice and he found himself smirking against her bare neck.

"You are a bit distracting," he admitted before brushing his lips against the sensitive skin just behind her ear. "The question, Maya, isn't why would he come forward now. The question is why would he be able to come forward now."

Her hands wrapped around his and she turned her head just so.

"You just might be a genius," she smirked at him. Their eyes met for a moment before his lips captured hers, kissing her deeply and thoroughly.

He itched to pull the towel away, to feel every inch of her, to taste every inch of her. His lips left hers, leaving her gasping for air, and trailed down her neck

"Draco," her voice was breathless as she pulled away from him gently. "I should put on some clothes."

"I was thinking just the opposite, actually." He groaned as she walked away from him.

"I'm sure you were, Malfoy." She laughed lightly as she pulled on a pair of black flannel pants and a gray shirt with "GRYFFINDOR" written across her chest in dark red letters.

He adjusted himself discreetly as she hung the damp towel across the bedpost. He didn't see her hand against her heart, willing it to slow down, or the tremble that was traveling through her arm.

She forced herself to take several deep breaths before she felt like she could face him again without acting on strong urges that were more than a little scary for her. Never had she wanted someone so much.

She turned back to see Draco still standing at the window, still looking out at the courtyard below. In a flash, she remembered the urgency in his voice when he had burst into her room. The concern had been evident on his face. That concern, it was all she had ever wanted, for someone to care for her, to worry about her, to protect her. Never would she have imagined that it would be Draco Malfoy that would provide her with that ultimate sense of security, but as she looked at him, studied him, she couldn't imagine it any other way.

He looked away from the window slowly and turned to face her once again. He was not prepared for the look in her eyes or the chemistry that nearly sparked in the air between them.

"Maya?" he asked her uncertainly.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and covered her face with her hands, embarrassed to be caught staring at him, and worried about what he might have seen in her unguarded moment.

"I was just, um, I mean..." she stammered before shaking her head and biting on her lip.

Draco wanted to pull her into his arms again, but he stood still and watched as she mentally debated with herself. He didn't know what was going on in her mind at that time, but he knew her well enough to know that as soon as she figured it out, she would tell him.

"I'm regretting putting these on." Her fingers toyed with the hem of her shirt, lifting it up just enough that he could see a thin strip of her bare stomach underneath.

A small smirk spread across his lips.

"I'm also wondering, if Ron hadn't attacked me, how long would it have taken for us to get to this point?"

He wrinkled his brow as he tried to follow her line of thought.

"I know, I'm getting ahead of myself," she rolled her eyes at herself and started pacing slowly at the foot of the bed. "We've kissed a few times, and there is an obvious attraction, but there's more than that, don't you think? I can't explain it, but it feels like more, doesn't it?"

She threw her hands into the air in frustration, sure that she sounded like a crazy woman. Or worse, that she was reading way more into their budding relationship than he was. For all she knew, he was only in it for the conquest. It could have all been a game to him, and here she was spilling her guts to him. She had gone too far now, though. She couldn't just stop, she had to tell him all of it.

"It feels like...like fate...or destiny...or...or like home."

She held her breath and waited for him to respond. She didn't look at him. She was too raw for that. She didn't think she could take seeing his reaction if he were to suddenly start laughing at her or something. He wouldn't do that. She knew he wouldn't. But still, still there was the worry that he might.

He stopped her fretting gently by placing his hand on her cheek and softly caressing her lips with his thumb. She mentally prepared herself before looking into his steel gray eyes. He studied her for a long moment before whispering to her, "It's more."

When he kissed her it was soft and slow, and passionate. He poured his heart into the kiss. With every caress of his tongue against hers, he tried to show her how much she meant to him, how much she had always meant to him.

Her hands slipped under the edge of his shirt spread out across his bare back, pulling him in closer and eliciting a deep groan. They both pulled back, but just barely. Just enough to look into each other's eyes, to determine if they needed to slow down or speed up.

It was fast, way too fast.

Ron was still out there somewhere, looking for her, running from the MLE.

She was there under his protection, professionally, and going any further would be highly unethical.

Hell, going as far as they had was already unethical.

He swallowed thickly and forced himself to remove her hands slowly from under his shirt. He hated himself for doing it, kicked himself internally for being so bloody righteous. It was like he was a bleeding Gryffindor or something. Pathetic, really.

"You have no idea how much I want to keep going, Maya."

She smiled, a small, sad smile. There was understanding in her eyes, but as she watched him, the understanding slowly morphed into determination. He hadn't moved away from her. His hands still circled her wrists. She could still feel his breath against her face and the intensity in his eyes. His words were true, he didn't want to stop, it was only his mind telling him that he should.

The same whispers were weaving their way through her mind as well. For once, though, Hermione was going to choose to ignore them. She always did what she was supposed to do. Just this once, she wanted to do something impulsive.

"Then don't stop, Draco."

His resolve wavered.

He had wanted her for so long, on so many different levels. It was hard for him to wrap his mind around the fact that she was there. One second longer staring into her chocolate brown eyes and the remainder of his resolve snapped like a twig.

He pulled her in for another kiss, hungrier than the last and felt himself harden unbelievably when she moaned in appreciation.

Every reservation that either of them had flew out the window in an instant. That's all it took for reality to dissolve around them. One instant. One moan. One second where their walls tumbled down around them and they were left open and vulnerable.

After that moment, there was no going back for either of them.

Clothing was discarded piece by piece. Hands roamed across bare skin, touching, feeling, memorizing every square inch.

Lips moved in tandem against each other, soft and hard and wild and savoring every taste.

"Draco," Hermione moaned out quietly at first, and then louder as he pushed two fingers deep inside her. "Oh, yes!"

Her head fell back in ecstasy as he touched her in ways that she had never felt before, hitting just the right spot over and over again until she lost all control and fell over the edge. He held her until she stilled.

She surprised him, then, by rolling him over on his back and straddling his hips. Their eyes met once again before she slowly lowered herself down on top of him, connecting them in the most intimate way possible.

He groaned deeply as she took him in to the hilt, surrounding him with her heat, encasing him, holding him tightly.

His hands fell to her hips as she began to move on top of him, slowly lifting herself up and down, then a little bit faster and then faster still.

He let her take control of the moment by setting her own pace. He understood that she needed that control, and he was only too happy to comply. He let her take everything she needed, everything she wanted from him. And in return, she gave him all that she had.

Sweat covered skin slapping together, heavy breathing, and moans of pure pleasure filled the room. Their bodies moved together in perfect harmony, as though they had been together a million times before. As though they belonged together, always.

After she had found her pleasure once again, he rolled them over so that he was above her. He then picked up where she had left off, penetrating her over and over again, fucking her harder and faster than she had ever felt before, making her scream and gasp and moan with every thrust. Until finally, finally she came for a third time, screaming his name and pulling him over the edge with her.

He came deep inside her and collapsed on top of her, completely drained of energy.

"Fucking hell, Maya. You are amazing," he murmured in her ear before slowly rolling to the side so he didn't crush her with his full weight.

"Me?" she laughed breathlessly. "You...that...Oh, Merlin, Draco!"

He smiled to himself against her skin. He had left her, Hermione Granger, incapable of finishing a sentence. That had to be a good sign, right?

Soon they had both drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, oblivious to the world outside of their bedroom. They weren't thinking about Ron Weasley and the possible threat of him finding Hermione. They weren't thinking about Harry's warning or his cryptic message. They weren't thinking about whomever set Fiendfyre loose in her building. They weren't thinking about Narcissa Malfoy, lying near death at St. Mungo's. They weren't thinking about the same illness within Hermione that was slowly progressing, or about the formula for the cure to said illness that they were both so invested in.

No, they weren't thinking about any of those things. For one night, for one glorious moment, they were only thinking about the happiness and contentment in their hearts that could only be attributed to the person lying next to them.

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AN: I am very excited to find that I can type and post chapters from my Kindle now! That will definitely help me with my writing!

So, what did you guys think? Leave me a review if you feel like it. :)


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: Let's just pretend for a moment that it hasn't been over a year since I updated this story, okay then? I have been writing….I promise. I actually have 3 more chapters complete that just need beta'd. I am trying hard to finish this story. I make no promises on when updates will come, but I swear it will be finished. Eventually.**

**Thank you all for sticking with me, and for any new readers out there, hello! Please leave a review and let me know how you found this story and what you think. **

The Journal

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione woke up with a gasp. She sat up quickly, her heart pounding against her chest. Her eyes scanned the darkened room, looking for anything out of place, any reason at all that she would be shaking uncontrollably. A noise. A shadow. A strange glint. There was nothing.

The only noise in the room, besides the sound of her heart beating loudly to her ears, was the rhythmic breathing of the man lying beside her.

Her eyes scanned the room once again. Her left hand rested against her chest while her right hand searched under her pillow for a wand that she knew wasn't there. Slowly, her heart rate returned to normal as she didn't find anything out of place. Her brain was telling her that all was well, but the feeling itching in her mind wouldn't go away. The feeling of being watched just would not go away.

Eventually her gaze turned to Draco. His eyes were closed. His chest was rising and falling slowly. A warm feeling spread through her. She wasn't sure how it had happened. It had only been a few months since they started talking through the journal. It had only been a week since he had caught her in the cafeteria and sparked the hope that had already been boiling inside her. It had only been a few days since she had gone to him for help. In that short amount of time, she had found herself falling for him.

Looking at him in the moonlight, she could barely reconcile him with the bully that had called her names in school. He was a different person now. A better person.

She glanced around the room once more before slowly rolling out of bed and walking towards the window. She picked up his shirt on the way and slipped it on, buttoning only a couple of the buttons over her chest. It was long enough that it covered her thighs and her fingertips just barely showed before she pushed the sleeves up.

She pulled the curtain aside and leaned against the windowsill. The silent bump in the night that had awoken her was forgotten. Instead, her mind was spinning with thoughts of the blond man that was sleeping in her bed.

Draco was an enigma. He was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He was safe and strong and vulnerable. He was sweet and funny and intense. He was everything.

She wanted him to be happy. He deserved happiness. And yet, she knew that he was in for heartache. She knew it, but she couldn't stop it. She had warned him. She had tried to stop it from happening. It was unstoppable. It was fate. It was their destiny, to either suffer through the coming months together, or to try to push through alone. Her women's intuition was telling her that going it alone wasn't an option. Not anymore. It was far too late for that.

She heard a rustle of fabric behind her and turned her head just enough to see Draco sit up on the bed. It took his eyes a few minutes to adjust to the dark, but when they did he spotted her immediately. She was standing with the moonlight behind her, highlighting her silhouette. Slowly he moved towards her and slipped his arms around her waist. A small part of him was worried that she had changed her mind and regretted sleeping with him. As she leaned into him, though, he knew that wasn't the case.

He held her for a long moment, somehow knowing that when she was ready to tell him what was on her mind, she would. When she did speak, her voice was soft and clear. The tone of her voice, though, that sent a chill down his spine, even more so than the words themselves did.

"Things are going to get worse, you know?" she said to him quietly.

He swallowed thickly. He wasn't quite ready to think about that yet.

"I know." Surprisingly, his voice was as clear as hers.

"I'm sick, Draco. I'm getting worse every day."

His arms tightened around her waist as his heart tightened in his chest.

"I know," he repeated. His voice wasn't quite as clear that time.

"I'm not going to find the cure on my own." There was a clear catch in her voice and she blinked back the tears that suddenly filled her eyes.

"You won't have to. I will help you." He rubbed his hands gently up and down her arms. He knew her words to be true, even if he didn't want to believe them.

"I don't want you to have to take care of me." Tears rolled down her cheeks and she made no effort to stop them. "I was prepared to go through it alone, but now that it's so close...I'm scared, Draco. I am so scared!"

She was trembling in his arms as her deepest thoughts, her deepest fears, poured into the dark night.

The sheer honesty of her words made his heart clench. Somewhere deep inside he reveled in the thought that he was probably the only person that had ever heard her confess such a thing. She hid her weaknesses from others, always. But to him, to Draco alone, she had opened up. She had let him into her inner sanctum where only the most trustworthy allies could inhabit.

"You are not going through anything alone, Hermione. Not anymore. Not ever again. We are in this together now, no matter what." He pulled her back against his chest and buried his head in her hair and just held on to her for a long moment.

"Why?" she asked suddenly. "Why would you be willing to do that for me?"

He sighed heavily against her neck. He should have known she would be one that wanted to talk and analyze every aspect of her life. But talking had never been one of his strong suits.

"Hermione," he began in a warning tone. He was going to tell her that he didn't want to talk about it. He didn't need to talk about it. She just needed to trust him.

"I have to know, Draco. Please," she interrupted.

He sighed again. He couldn't see her face, but he was sure she was giving him puppy-dog eyes.

"Fuck!" He mumbled to himself. He couldn't resist her. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. She had shared her inner most thoughts with him. It was only fair that he return the favor now.

"When Mother was diagnosed with PCS, I quit my master apprenticeship and took a job at the MLE. I had been there a few months. People were...less than welcoming. I began coming in to work early so I could avoid crowds of people." She leaned further into him and reached her hands above her head and backwards around his neck. The compassion in that moment shook him to the core. She was providing him with comfort, despite the fact that he was simply trying to reassure her.

"One morning I stepped into the lift and turned around, and you stepped in right behind me. You looked right at me. Instead of shying away or averting your eyes, you looked right at me. Then you nodded at me and said my name." He paused, wondering if she remembered that small moment or not. "I just remember thinking you looked so tired and somehow…sad."

She cleared her throat and whispered, "You asked me if I was okay."

His heart warmed instantly. That was a moment that had changed his life, and for so long he had thought she would never even remember it had happened.

"You said you were 'peachy', whatever that means. Then you stepped off the lift and that was it." He released his hold on her and stepped back. His hand went through his hair and he sighed again.

"I couldn't get that moment out of my head, though. I started watching you, paying attention when no one else was. I could see the way your friends used you, but none of them were ever there for you. I don't know how many times I've wanted to just hold you because I could tell you needed it. I never thought I would have the opportunity, though."

He placed his hands on either side of her face and tilted her chin up so he could look into her eyes. They were wide and damp and he could have easily gotten lost in them.

"Draco..." She nearly whispered. He needed to finish, though. He couldn't let her distract him.

"You've found it in your heart to forgive me for everything I did when we were younger. Give me the chance to take care of you now. Let me be here for you, Hermione. I won't let you down. I promise."

She was speechless. Never had she heard anything so sweet. Never would she be able to say no to a request like that. She nodded her head once in agreement.

He leaned in and kissed her slowly. Her hands tangled in his hair and pulled him closer and closer. It didn't take long for the kiss to turn into something more. They each put every ounce of what they were feeling into it and soon they were breathing hard, gasping for air.

They pulled apart, just far enough that they could look into each other's eyes. The intensity, the heat that was pulsating between them was nearly palpable. They came together once again, melting into each other, molding together until they were one entity. He lifted her up easily and pressed her back against the window. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

His forehead leaned against hers and their eyes met once again. He lifted her arms above her head, holding them at the wrists against the cool glass. Then slowly he pressed into her. Again and again they came together, each thrust a little faster than the one before. Small sounds of pleasure involuntarily fell from their lips, small sounds that got louder and louder.

Hermione threw her head back with one final scream of ecstasy as she tumbled over the edge. She gasped out his name as waves of pleasure washed over her.

Exhausted, she laid her head against his chest as he continued to press into her. He released her wrists and she immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, holding onto to him as her pleasure began building once again.

His eyes were unfocused, staring out the window into the night as he took her to the precipice yet again.

Together they fell.

In the aftermath, he set her down slowly. Her legs were shaking so much that she could barely stand. She held onto him, arms wrapped around his waist, head lying on his chest, and she felt completely at peace. His breathing slowly came back to normal as he held her. His gaze slowly focused back on the park across the street.

The park that was now, for some reason, completely dark, where only moments earlier it had been lit up by streetlamp after streetlamp.

He forced himself not to react, not to alert the witch in his arms that something was amiss. But the sight of a man standing on the sidewalk, staring up at the window, made his blood run cold.

There were wards around his house. Strong wards and protective barriers that were designed to keep out all but a select few. There was no way this man could see them. And yet, Draco got the distinct impression that they were being watched.

He was focused so much on the man below, that he didn't realize that Hermione had lifted her head to look at him. She saw the look on his face in the dull moonlight and immediately knew that something was wrong. Slowly she turned her head until she could see what had caught his eye. She gasped and curled further into his arms.

"He can't see us," Draco assured her. He may have been trying to convince himself as well.

She swallowed deeply and turned to face the window once again. It wasn't the first time she had stared down an enemy through the invisible walls of protective wards. Knowing they couldn't see you didn't really help slow down the adrenaline that suddenly surged through her body.

"He knows he's in the right area, though." She shook her head and smacked herself on the forehead. "How could I have been so stupid?"

"How could he have known? Even if he deduced that you were with me, no one knows about this place but me and Blaise."

She ran her hand through her hair as she pieced together information. Her body was still humming from their very recent activities and it was distracting her. Not to mention the sight of a very angry wizard staring at their location with what she could only describe as an angry glint in his eye.

"It's the deluminator. That's what Harry was talking about. He used it once during the war to find me. It won't bring him through the wards, but it'll put him in the right area."

Draco stared down at the man that had caused her pain. The bruise on her face was nearly faded away. The marks on her shoulder were still there but healing. The emotional scars would take much longer to heal. In a split second he had made a decision. Once the decision was made, he moved quickly.

"Stay here. Watch him. Tell me what he's doing." He didn't wait for her to respond before he stepped back towards the bed and started getting dressed. He pulled his clothes on quickly in the dark, except for his shirt which was still being worn by Hermione. For a brief moment he considered divesting her of it, but decided against it. She was tempting enough as she was. If she were to stand in front of him completely naked, it would take all his willpower to walk away.

"Where are you going?" She was keeping an eye on Weasley, but she was also curious.

"For a walk. Stay here. If something happens to me, there is a portkey in my room, in the top dresser drawer. It will take you to Blaise's house. Take it, then call for help. Got it?"

"Yeah. I got it. Just be careful, alright?"

He simply nodded to her, then he was gone. She didn't try to stop him, but she did watch out the window in anxious trepidation. Part of her wanted to go with him to face Ron. Part of her wanted to stay right where she was. Draco could handle himself. He wasn't like Harry, rushing into danger without thinking it through first. She trusted him, in more ways than one.

So she stayed, and she waited, and she watched as Ron made his way slowly up and down the street, inspecting every house on the block visually. He moved around the square methodically.

Hermione kept watch for Draco, becoming more concerned by the minute that he had not yet shown himself. She knew he wouldn't abandon her. That thought never even crossed her mind. She was starting to wonder where he had gone off to, though. She managed to keep an eye out the window while slowly gathering her clothes and slipping them back on. She also secured her beaded bag in the unlikely (or maybe very likely) event that she would need to make a quick getaway.

When Ron finished his circle of the park, he stood in front of the building two doors down from Draco's. There still wasn't any sign of the blond wizard, and she found herself wondering again where he could be.

She waited with bated breath for Ron to make his next move. Even though she had anticipated an attack, she still heard herself gasp and took half of a step back when he unleashed a reducto curse on the house two doors down. Her hand grasped for a wand that was no longer by her side.

Where in the name of Merlin was Draco?

She quickly opened her journal and sent a message to the missing wizard.

"_He just attacked the house two doors down. Hurry."_

The reducto curse had blown a sizeable hole in the building on the corner. The damage was evidence that the building was not protected by wards. Satisfied with the result, Ron moved on to the next building. Another flash of light tore through the darkness and the ground beneath her feet shook as the curse hit its target.

In a matter of seconds he had his wand aimed at the next house on the block, at Draco's house. Hermione felt every muscle in her body tensed, ready for the strike that was bound to come next.

The curse would be absorbed by the wards and he would know exactly where she was.

She jotted down another quick message, then held her breath as she saw the word forming on his lips.

So focused was she, she didn't notice the two wizards that popped into view in the middle of the park. At least, not until Ron suddenly pivoted and sent the curse flying towards them rather than towards her.

The anxiety she felt skyrocketed as the curse hit the ground mere meters from where Draco stood. To his credit, though, he never even flinched.

She told herself to relax, to breathe, and to focus. Instead, her breathing became heavier. Her hands began to shake harder.

Suddenly her legs felt weak.

Panic flooded her body as she tried to reach for the dresser to steady herself, only to find that her arms were not obeying the command. They were shaking, twitching, moving in jerky, painful motions that she had no control over.

Her legs gave out and her body crashed to the floor.

Logically, she knew what was happening. That didn't stop the terror that filled her heart as her body began convulsing uncontrollably on the ground. Pain seeped into her muscles and nerves in a way reminiscent of the cruciatas curse itself. She found herself gasping for air, struggling to remember why that was important.

The convulsions subsided. The pain ebbed away. Her breathing slowed and her thoughts began filtering back through her mind.

Draco, Ron, someone else...in the park...fighting...

Her head...pounding...

Her body...aching...

Draco...in danger...

Seizure...

Stage 3...

Merlin.

In the nearly pitch black room, these thoughts swirled through her mind. She didn't even notice when her vision started to fade away. She didn't notice the blood that was seeping slowly into the carpet behind her head. She hadn't even noticed that her head had hit the dresser when she fell.

As she slipped into unconsciousness, a single thought was repeating over and over in her mind.

_Time's up...  
_

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**AN: So hopefully the next update won't take so long. Again, I swear I will complete this story. **

**Please feel free to leave me a review and let me know what you think. **


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